The Trenches

I cautiously moved down the muddy and wet path that had been dug out of the dead ground in a speedy urgency for protection, nothing more than a narrow slit of soaking mud meant to hold a large number of injured, sleep deprived, hungry and scared men, each of them waiting in fear of the next march. The explosions which ripped through the earth no longer shocked me; the rattle of enemy machine guns no longer scared me; the cries of dying men no longer put me on edge. Only the whistle that heralded the next attack could scare me.