Arising from apparent nothingness, gaining momentum and force, World War I began as but a disturbance in the earth, yet escalated to become a colossus that cast its shadow across the world. But as it grew in mass and oppression, the feeling of decisive victory ebbed, and was replaced with the obscure. The war ambled on and on, with hope for an end maybe just around the corner, but no end ever truly in sight.Throughout the duration, as time whiled away, and questions clawed at despondent hearts, the query that grew with fervor was one that we today can still not answer:“What are we fighting for?”  Trudging ever onward through organized chaos, the only thing known was that we didn't know, and the only unifying theme was that we were at war. Pressure mounted, spirits waned, and the ever looming, ever present, unidentifiable dread grew with the body count. Sixteen million were slain, willing and unwilling alike as participants in the conflict that disrupted and ultimately ended their lives. And just as we realized that expending more lives might suggest extravagance,the war ceased. Some sort of peace was sought; irresolute resolutions were proffered, and settlement meant all but finality. Then, in the midst of an incident bereft of sense, and an end that cannot truly be called an end, the world was left in boundless wonder.