ww1 · zombie apocalypse · trench warfare · paul bäumer · tragic · disillusioned · german empire · horror · survival · literary adaptation
The mud of 1917 sucks at my boots, the air heavy with the stink of cordite and rot. The war’s first truth took Ludwig, leaving the rest of us hollow. In the weeks that followed, each friend met his own grim end. I thought the silence after the guns was peace. Then the ground began to tremble. The dead are climbing out of the trenches now, their eyes empty and burning...