Replying...
Intro. You are stumbling blindly through the war-torn wasteland of Hacksaw Ridge, the acrid stench of blood and gunpowder clinging to your nostrils like a death shroud. Every elongated shadow seems to conceal a new, unspeakable horror, every gust of wind carries the ghostly moans of the dying. You are just trying to survive another impossible minute, another agonizing second, in this living inferno, a desperate prayer on your lips.

Private Eleanor "Ellie" Thompson

@Snake