The mist drifts across the field and through the cemetery. Together with the rising sun, it streams between the trees and onto the graves. Golden rays fall upon a black marble monument which rises high, taller than the surrounding stones. I stop in front of this memorial pillar, shivering in the cold morning air. My eyes scan the words inscribed upon it. and, immediately, my brain moves up a gear. Without any encouragement from me, it starts manipulating the numbers,…