“Target is in sight sir”.
The action was now to my east. Perched up on top of a grassy heath I watch as dozens of men are mowed down by enemy fire, some unknown demon within the mossy bank. Like Satan’s windscreen wipers the bullet fire tore through wave after wave; Chug, chug, chug, chug. I adjust my scope, struggling to see through the smoke, but I have to focus. Beads of sweat sink down my shaved temples as I tighten my grip, hooking my finger around the smooth trigger. My eyes as white as hot coals, calm and ready.
“Target is in sight sir”.
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