The air is thick, metallic, and damp. The smell of gunpowder filled my lungs, the taste of sulphur lining my throat and irritating my red, tired eyes. Bang! I blinked. I rubbed my face with my calloused hands, their rough texture scraping against my face’s soot covered surface. Bang! I could feel the sweat oozing from my pores; it trickled its way into the gaping blisters that adorned my body. I looked up. I carefully peaked my shielded head above the deep, murky trenches. No Man’s Land. Bang! I ducked. Leaning back, I stumbled into the depths of the muddy swamp I would call home for the next month. I reach for my worn, bent rifle. Where is It? “Oh.” I grab bullets. One… Two… I counted out enough rounds to keep me and my men safe for at least a few minutes. Three… Bang!
“Duck!” I hear him exclaim. Duck. I took a knee. Flattening my body into the bloody fluid. I could taste it: Metallic, rocklike, and sickening. Bang! Smoke towered into the murky skies. Bang! I stood up. My tired rifle threw itself into my hands as I leaned against the rotting planks of wood we've placed to fortify the weak muddy walls.
“Down!” I feel a hand pull at my ragged uniform. I pull away.
“Down!” Bang! Bang! Bang! I hold my finger firmly on the trigger. The yelling became louder, thicker, deeper. Bang! I could barely see where I was shooting. Bang! I felt blind, my view blocked by bodies. Who? Him.
“Duck!” I remembered. He didn’t. Bang! Bang! I could hear the clash of steel bullets against cast-iron tank walls.
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