Noise
Noise.
It was quiet. There were random bursts of gun shot in the distance. The constant, ravenous barking of the flesh hungry dogs echoed throughout the snow covered canyon. It was war, but it did not sound like war. No shouting as pride filled Americans charging the Germans. No sounds of bullets whizzing passed your ear. A slight rumble of an engine is audible. The random eruptions of gun shot from the machine guns were like fire crackers compared to the loud bang of a sharpshooter chancing his luck with a single shot. But, it was silent.
It was cold. It is the dead of winter, in a canyon that is dense with snow. By the time one’s spit hit the ground, or rather snow, it was just as hard as a those tiny, metal nightmares that we call bullets. The breadth of the soldiers are forming icicles as it dissipates. And still we sweat. Our clothes were like tissue paper, but still we perspired. The fear of death looming over us kept us on our toes, with a constant flow of adrenaline being poured into our bloodstream by ever anxious nerves. But, it was freezing.
We were hungry. We ate till our bellies felt as if they would burst. We were given enough food by the inhabitants of the nearest town as we passed through there. We ate like kings compared to some of the other soldiers. We did not stop eating. But we could barely touch our food. We were starving.
Sitting there, crouched behind a rock, I cried. All I could think about was the rumble in my stomach. All I could feel was the sub-freezing temperatures of this land we were invading. All I could hear was silence. I was alone. I was separated from my strike team. They had gone ahead, and left me to watch the flanks. The platoon had named this the Battle of the Fuel Dump, because hell was taken.
Something broke the silence. It was a scream. It sounded as if someone was having their liver chewed out of them. Benjamin. Benny. It was his shriek of gruesome pain. I looked in his direction; he...
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