Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands? Foreword Nothing will ever make you value your life more than looking up into the eyes of the enemy, his cold dark orbs daring you to move so he can empty his rifle into you and watch your body go limp and lifeless. I could tell you how I got here but the story would probably make your blood run cold. You see, war isnt a place of fairytales and kisses, glitter and kittens. Its a place of blood and tears. Last breaths and last wishes. Its a place to kill and pray to God that you dont get killed in return.