What does war look like from the perspective of an infantryman, a young boy, a colonel, a prisoner of war, or anyone haunted by war memories? The pieces here—stories and a poem—reflect the realities and enduring resonances of war.
The phone never rings; those you’ve loved, long dead.
There was a shout, a shot fired. I pressed the shutter.
The prisoners were scarecrows wearing prison suits.
He’d been lost and tripping vividly on acid for days.
War was about to begin, and the boys were in charge.