Jethro laid there in the mud on the side of the trench just high enough to get his head over the top. His 303 British-made rifle was cocked and ready to fire. He had his finger on the trigger. Jethro would constantly worry about where his bullets would fall. The mortar and machine gun fire were deafening but not loud enough to drown out the repetitious sound in his head, "Thou shalt not kill, Thou Shall Not Kill,.. THOU SHALT NOT KILL." His fear of the battle going on in his mind was worse than the real battlefield that he was fighting on. He didn't know how much longer he could fight this battle, in his mind, with his God.. At this point in time there was no way that he could know that he would never point a firearm at any human being again after this day. ...