It was an eerily quiet winter morning in the Ardennes woods, and PFC Keith Hagen was doing his usual routine: sitting in his foxhole on the frontline, looking down on the krauts looking at him. Footsteps behind him broke the calming silence that had fallen over the woods surrounding Foy.

"You still out here?" Keith's friend Cpl. Robert Gordon asked him. "You're gonna get us both killed with this here hole bein' so damn close to the line and such." Gordon got in the foxhole and opened up his bag. Keith turned around.

"Well, maybe that's what I'm aiming for. Ever thought of that?" The young boy got a bit deeper in his hole and put his binoculars away. "So, what did you get?" Gordon pulled out a cloth and a few metal cans.

"I got us some chocolate and a few cans of beans." Gordon handed one Hershey bar and one can to his friend. Keith pulled out his bayonet and used it to open the can. Lt. Miller walked up to them and got in the foxhole.

"How you boys doing up here?" He asked, a rare smile on his face. Keith moved his M1 Garand rifle a bit to get into a more comfortable position.

"Pretty good, sir. Thanks for the binoculars, by the way," Keith told him.

"Well, I'm back at company HQ, so I don't need them until we all go into the battle. You, though," Lt. Miller stabbed a finger at Keith, "you're sitting a mere 200 yards from the krauts and their snipers. I figured you might need them. So, what's the report on German activity?"

"Well, I saw a rail gun being moved behind the church steeple at about 0600, sir." Keith rose again and took a look at the town. Lt. Miller nodded.

"Well, boys, I know it sucks, but—" He was cut off by a blast.

"Kraut artillery! Git in yer foxhole!" Gordon stated the obvious as a huge explosion in the treetops caused branches to fall all around them. The Lieutenant and Gordon got as low as they could. Keith, however, looked into the woods. He saw a medic rushing to their foxhole. BZOO . . . BOOM! A shell landed squarely on the medic, killing him instantly. Keith looked up, and the medic's arm landed on him. Keith was in the 101st airborne and a veteran of D-day and Operation: Market Garden. He had also been on the front line ever since Bastonge. He was used to this kind of barrage. But the medic's arm was too much. He took off his helmet and threw up into it. As the artillery barrage lifted, cries for a medic and moaning could be heard all throughout the forest. Keith wiped his mouth and dumped the vomit out of his helmet. The lieutenant stood up, looked around, and took off. Keith decided to have a little fun.

"Hey, Lieutenant!" He called, throwing a certain something with all his might. Just as Miller turned around, the arm hit him in the forehead. Keith and Gordon let out a hearty laugh, trying to lift the mood despite the death and destruction around them. When their commander looked at them again, Keith stopped laughing and pointed at Gordon. In response, the arm hit him in the forehead too. Suddenly they heard a blast. Keith ducked. So did Gordon. A tree was felled by the blast, and, unfortunately, it fell on Keith's foxhole. In fact, it basically fell on the young PFC's head, knocking him out.