23 April 2012
The smell of gun powder and smoke clouded my throat, my back pressed against the dirt of the wall behind me, my rifle gripped tightly in my hands. Rushing past me, men passed sand bags and ammunition down the wet and sodden trench we were crouching in, mud rising to our knees and the smell of corpses emanating from beneath us. I could see the fear in some of the soldiers eyes. Some merely 18, pale with fear and flinching from every explosion.From beyond our pathetic ditch, they glanced at me as I watched them work relentlessly.
The Trenches • Opuss № I