(no subject)
Jack was fucked. Here he was crouching in a fox hole somewhere in Iraq wondering why the fuck he had joined the military in the first place as god cued explosions all around him in a massive orchestra of death. Dirt and sweat crowded his face as he tried to lean harder and harder against the walls of earth that seemed to be expanding by the second. He was going to be discoverd. He was going to be found. Would the rest of his battilion hear his cries? Would he hear their's? And if he had to, could he respond and react? The air was thick with smoke and the acrid taste of gunpowder, it permeated his nostriles, fastening itself to his brain like a badge. It was a smell Jack would never forget, if he made it out alive. He couldn't even remember why he was in that fox hole. The gunfire never took a break. There was no way Jack was leaving that fox hole. It was quickly becoming his prison cell soon to be his tomb. It was a grave he had dug himself earlier that morning when the captain told the boys that it was time to dig in. No sooner had they settled, the firefight ensued. It was almost as if they had been waiting for them, watching them the entire time. Fuck that, it didnt' matter anymore. All that mattered was staying alive.
]\\\\
all that matters is staying alive
]\\\\
all that matters is staying alive