The Grim
Reaper Sweat is pouring down my face, and
the dust rises into my nostrils cutting off my air supply. The steel pot
on my head rings with each explosion and I wonder where the next round
will fall. Overhead I hear the rockets screaming through the air,
seeking out life so that they can create death. With each second that
passes they hit closer and closer until the ground buckles and moves
under us. The earth is tearing apart and the
spray from the shrapnel whizzes by as razors seeking to cleave the flesh
from our bodies. The mortars have taken over and now echo through the
blackness with a new barrage and intensity. Hollow sounds fill the air -
WHOOMP-WHOOMP, and then the silence. They will be heard only seconds
before impact. ZzzzzzzzWHOOM! Fingers dig into the earth clawing for
safety. To run is futile, we cannot fight what we can't see. To run is
certain death, to stay is to suffer a thousand deaths... We must stay. Devastation rules the darkness. We
are at the mercy of fate. The Grim Reaper rolls the dice and brings his
deadly blade down upon whom he wills. He will have a productive harvest
tonight. Once again the hollow sounds fill the night sky, this time in a
series of three. Silence, and then the whistling can be heard... That
one is high. That one is high, it will be over our heads. zzzzzzzz This
one will be closer - the sound is louder and it explodes a few yards
from our position. ZZZZZzzz.. this one is gonna hit, if not the hole
then just outside. Fear filled my body and the
adrenalin and numbness that accompanies terror floods my soul. I begin
to pray, I prepare to die. I wait and I think let it be quick! The sound was as that of a giant
shovel piercing the ground. Burying itself deep at the edge of our hole.
We are frozen with fear. Dirt sprayed and then
trickled in and bounced off our helmets. It was as though the sky
was raining pellets but there was no explosion. DAMN IT!... I cant believe this
shit. I looked up slowly and peered over the edge of our foxhole. Then I
saw it! Eyeball to fin. The mortar round was a dud. It was sticking
upright out of the ground just inches from the edge. I tapped Tom and he
looked up, we were both as pale as ghosts. We climbed out of our
position and stared in disbelief. We drifted off into the night
shaking our heads. The barrage was over, we survived and the Grim Reaper
was short-changed. Perhaps he paused to change his
blade... |