This is World War One.
The weapons are shifting the planet and countries find themselves locked in a war spanning the entirety of Europe, the most advanced continent in the world.
The United States of America is ignoring the pleads from old allies and new enemies to come to war, but that doesn't mean its people have.
There is a volunteer service available for the men of America, who, inspired by their movies of great honor and glory, flock to the trenches like fish to the ocean.
One of these men, sitting in his trench on the Western Front in France and holding his gun like it was a normal object and not something he's used to kill, is Lieutenant Jones, age 20, 5'11", tan, robust, the ideal American boy who went east to fight for the west. He's pure and good and strong, and he's fought hard enough for long enough to gain his rank with relative ease.
Relative ease being a relative term out here. Because, in war, nothing is easy.
And few know it better then the German General on the other side of the bomb-scarred front, deep in the Central Powers trench. General Beilschmidt, age 25, 6'3", knows how this war his kicked his country in the side and stomped it in the face while it was bleeding on the ground. He knows the greed of his Kaiser has killed half a generation, and the anger of the Entente is swift and harsh. He knows that both sides are at fault, but also that both will ignore their guilt and throw their boys at each other until either nothing is left or someone gives up. He wishes one or the other would happen soon, because it's been two years since this war has started and five since he's joined the army and he's tired.
Tired of fighting, tired of war, tired of looking at boys and men with beautifully eager faces run to Death with arms flung wide open. Tired of not being able to live properly, with a wife and children, because he lives below ground level next to bodies that haven't lived in a long time.
But the thing is, he isn't sure he can live "properly" now, because living like this seems like all he's ever known.
As he sits among his men and boys and misses life, Jones sits alone and misses ease.
One day, they'll meet and create a white flag.
But not yet.
They must wait, with baited breath that they don't know why they're holding, for the sun.
Because after the sun comes the flag.