For three days we have been entrenched in this wet and filthy hollow, the rain is relentless and claws at our skin as we ready ourselves, staring skywards with empty eyes in silent contemplation of the scene we will face once the order is given and the whistle blows.
At times the silence is deafening. As you sit waiting, your thoughts, induced by an unfathomable fear, charge thunderously through your mind like a stampede of wild horses, and then they are gone, like the clouds in the sky.
Twice during these last few days we have been expecting the order. Twice we have prepared ourselves mentally for this moment, standing at the foot of the abyss, assuring ourselves that our artillery will do its worst, striking at the heart of our enemy’s defences, clearing the way as we advance in our quest for territorial gain.
Twice during these last few days we have been expecting the order. Twice we have prepared ourselves mentally for this moment, standing at the foot of the abyss, assuring ourselves that our artillery will do its worst, striking at the heart of our enemy’s defences, clearing the way as we advance in our quest for territorial gain.
