In the trenches of **World War I**, soldiers had to **grapple** with hunger, fear, and the meaning of survival. Commanders, trapped in circles of **groupthink**, launched doomed offensives, unable to challenge consensus. Propaganda fueled the **halo effect**, painting leaders as flawless while their decisions cost thousands of lives. Young recruits, often **headstrong**, rushed into battle with naïve courage, unaware of what awaited them.

Back in Paris, elites were **hobnobbing** at cafés, discussing art and politics while the front burned. Speeches in parliament grew **hyperbolic**, filled with promises of victory “by Christmas” even as the war dragged on. Artists turned to **impasto**, laying thick strokes of paint to express the weight of violence, while others clung to **impressionism**, capturing fleeting light amid destruction. Their canvases revealed the **incessant** churn of modern life, where peace seemed almost **inconceivable**.

Philosophers wrote that hope had to be **intrinsic**, drawn from within, since external order had collapsed. Soldiers off the line often appeared **languid**, caught between exhaustion and dread, living in a kind of **limbo** before their next summons to battle. The war tested not only flesh but spirit, demanding resilience when both seemed nearly broken.

Meanwhile, scientists in **material science** experimented with steel, rubber, and chemicals, creating both stronger weapons and sturdier shelters. Each artist, too, searched for the right **medium** to capture experience—paint, poetry, stone, or song. In every field, from trenches to galleries, the Great War forced humanity to invent, to endure, and to record the unthinkable.