The number of Roger's troop seemed limitless and no matter how many we killed, it seemed futile. For every hundred that was killed, two hundred appeared. All the while the horizon continued to flood with them, row after row, division after division, crammed up like a million worker ants. They were able to stop the fire, they pushed off the flaming soldiers away an took up new positions. The death of several thousands of their men didn't even put a dent on their forces.

Yet at our side, every death made an impact, though we didn't have many. That kept my hope alive. We were already far away from the...