"Norm's praying made Herb nervous. Here he was, sharing a foxhole with an atheist who was praying, just in case there was a God. It got him thinking; if a shell happened to land in their small foxhole, or even close by, they would be killed instantly. Herb and Norm were both twenty-three years old. Herb thought he would survive the war, but so did those who had been killed. Everyone spoke about what they would do after the war; everyone had plans for the future. Herb's best friends – Smitty, Lieutenant Arith, Private Briddon, and Sergeant McIvor – all spoke of the future and each of them had ended up in a pool of their own blood. Herb thought of these individuals, and how they thought they would live, just like him. Yet on this cold, awful night Norm was praying to save his life. He was saying things he vowed never to say. He wanted his life spared, just one more day. Until that moment, Herb had never fully believed in the old adage, "there are no atheists in foxholes," but there it was, right before his eyes–a desperate soldier who needed something to believe in."