"I don't know how long I fought for," he says, his eyes, cold at first, becoming listless and blank as he tells his story. The horrors of his life will be there to haunt him for years to come. "All I know is that my hair was about eight inches long by the time I left. Any time we were going to the front line we would feel afraid, would want to run away. But you couldn't. The only time I was happy was when I was shooting. But I still have my bullet wounds and I still limp."