Abou Fatma: I found you half dead crossing the desert alone and you say you are afraid?
Harry Faversham: When something like this happens you are lost. You don't know who you are anymore and what you're capable of. Unless I do something this is always how people will remember me. A feather. And that is how I will always see myself: a coward. All I know is that I can't live with myself like this.
Jack Durrance: You may be lost, but you are not forgotten. For those who have travelled far, to fight in foreign lands, know that the soldier's greatest comfort is to have his friends close at hand. In the heat of battle it ceases to be an idea for which we fight. Or a flag. Rather we fight for the man on our left, and we fight for the man on our right. And when armies are scattered and the empires fall away, all that remains is the memory of those precious moments that we spent sided by side.