“A nameless pimple in the middle of nowhere. how many of those there have been. How difficult they would be to find after the war. A barren hump of unmemorable ground. It became important to a few human beings for a few hours of a November afternoon. Some of them lay on and about it in holes: some others wanted it. It wouldn't matter a great deal in the eternity of time who any of them were. Nor, in the larger pattern of conflict, why the hill was so desirable.”