"Call it – Fuck, I don't know – soldier's gut feeling or something like that. Any man who served is automatically brethren. We can see – from one look at another – the ghosts of the war lingering behind our eyes. The seconds fighting for our life, crawling on our bloodied elbows in the trenches, in the mud. That one minute. The soldier's minute. In battle, that's all you get. One minute of everything at once, and anything before is nothing, and everything after is nothing. Nothing in comparison, to that one minute. Nothing that matters."