"GET DOWN! GET TUH FUCK DOWN!" John yelled at his unit. Bombs went off in the distance and gunfire sounded off all around. Muddy trenches and barbed wire fences had become home to these men. "WOT'S TUH SITUATION?" he yelled across the trench to a man who helplessly worked on a radio broadcast.

"We're carpet bombing over the enemy right now, sir! Those are our bombs!" the man looked up, almost a gleeful expression on his face as a bullet caught him in the helmet. "BILLY! BILLYYYYYY!" John yelled as he scrambled over to the boy. Upon investigation, the bullet hadn't gone through and had ricocheted away. -Lucky kid- he though with a slight chuckle before his thoughts faded back into the war around him. John crossed the trench again and grabbed his rifle, poking his head over the ridge. His eyes scanned the area looking for anything that would tip him off to enemy locations. Anything that showed him where the central forces were coming from.

More shots rang out in the darkness, and the echo made it hard to pinpoint anything. One thing you could somewhat rely on though, was the muzzle fire from enemy weapons. John zeroed in on the one and fired, jerking the bolt back and shoving it back in place to fire again. Repeating the action, he let loose three bullets at the man in relative quick succession before ducking back below the trench's cover.

"Talk to me boys, wot do we got?" he looked between the seven man unit that was his team.

"Five men on the ridge, sir. Two were flanking, but Duncan got them. We're taking heavy fire, but tanks are inbound. I don't thi-" the man tapered off as a grenade landed in the middle of the group. "SHIT!" John, along with everyone else, turned and ran from the blast. All except Billy, who grabbed it and arched back to throw it. Soon as it flew from his grasp, the grenade exploded, Billy's hand with it. Screams of bloody murder could be heard over the bombs and gunfire.

"Sarge, Sarge, what do we do? We don't have a medic!"

John looked at Billy, eyes wide. Nothing prepared you for that shit. He shook his head, "I...I..." he stammered before shaking off the moment.

"Travis! Run down tuh trench, ge' a medic! Franklin! Make tuh ammo boxes a triage table! Johnson! Ge' Grisham on tuh table an' 'old 'em down, keep pressure on tuh bleedin'! Tuh rest of ya! Ge' west, east, an' sout' corners! I'll cover nort'! NOW!" John grabbed his rifle again and began watching and keeping guard, the four men racking up a kill count as they shot enemies that neared them.

"Johnson! 'Ow's Grisham 'oldin' boyo!" John called back over his shoulder.

"So far he's good, sir!" Johnson yelled back.

"Ya 'eard that boyos? Grisham be good so far!" John announced loudly.

A resounding cheer could be heard from the other men of the infantry unit. Moments later, Travis returned with a medic and the man immediately got to work on Billy's hand. John looked back and changed his tune from the one earlier. -Poor kid. Shot in the helmet, then his hand get's blown off? And their gonna say we one this battle...- John laughed cynically at the situation, turning back to see a man diving at him. He pulled his trigger but the man's bayonet buried itself deep in his chest. John screamed out as his world faded to black...

John woke up screaming in his bed; sweat covered his body, his heart beat rapidly, and his breaths were shallow. He slid himself out of the covers and sat up, feet on the ground. After a sigh, his hands ran through his hair. He stood and rubbed the scar over his bare chest. Another sigh. He shuffled into the other room and grabbed his pack of cigarettes and his glass of bourbon from the night before and stepped outside, the cold air over his half-naked body bringing him back home safely. John lit his cigarette and took a sip of the bourbon. One last sigh, his breath visible on the cold night. "Fuckin' 'ell..."

Jack came outside with John and took a cigarette from the man. "Back over there, boss?"

"Aye Jackie. Grisham's 'and an', well..." he pointed to his chest. The men shared a laugh and Jack clapped his hand on John's back. "Don't worry. I gotcha, Sarge."

John nodded at Jack, "Ta Franklin. Semper Fi."