Palms clammy and sweaty, a twist in the gut, and my riffle began to slip from hands. Mud upon rain, the slush seeping through our holey combat boots, a ringing in my ears from the whistle bombs above us. Rain chilled our body, no food sense last night, our minds thinking all the same thing , live another day or die tonight? Rottweiler growled from a distance, General Smith turned around mud splattered his face all we could see was his eyes glaring back us, we knew what we had to do, go in do the job and get out.
A Whistle in The Night
August 20, 2008