Sirens in the dark. The room filled with silhouettes of people some tall some short some fat some basically wasting away and only some alive. The light switched on. The room filled with faces some pretty some not so much some grief stricken and most the papery white of the dead. This had not been a good night with 13 dead and 10 struggling to thrive the village was at the brink of just ceasing to exist. But of course thought Ethel it wouldn't be that simple. There would be more attacks to come more deaths more grief more suffering. Her mother had told her to look on the bright side but there was none to look at. The army never gave anything but bombs dead people and good places to bury them in. They where using her house AGAIN. She guessed this was because in was closer to the woods harder to aim at and all round cosy. Ethel had no problem with this of course after all it was their turn but she wasn't so keen on them coming inn while she was in bed. She found it disconcerting at most times but what worried her most was that she was getting used to it. And having dead guys in your room and not caring is something to worry about at the age of 20.