It is the year 1917. Fighting in Europe ceased in the trenches. You are a team of American grunts, recently sent to the front. For over a dozen days you've been residing in the trenches, a couple of hundreds meters from the Germans' positions. Between you and your enemy stretches a no man's land. It reminds you of a brown swamp, full of bomb craters and chaotically spread wire obstacles. Here and there stands a half-burnt tree - the last reminder of normality.
Life in trenches might be boring but it is also a fight for survival. Almost nothing happens during the day. Both sides cower in makeshift dugouts. From time to time, a hail of artillery missiles falls on the trenches or somewhere around them. Careless soldiers, showing themselves too much while leaning out of the trenches, become targets to snipers. Above the no man's land cruise planes and balloons - yours and the enemies' - patrolling the area and controlling the movement of the troops.
Day by day you wonder when the order of attack will be issued. Or when will the enemy decide to commence a massive attack.
The trenches come to life during the night - it is the time for rebuilding and repairing of the fortifications or for journeys into the no man's land to take captives or to replace the snipers.