"Keep your interval, Taylor," Elias whispered, not even turning his head. "The jungle has eyes, and they like it when we huddle."
Tracers stitched the air like burning needles. Taylor fell back, his ears ringing, the chaos swallowing his thoughts. In that moment, college, his parents’ letters, and the world back home felt like a dream he had once had. Here, there was only the mud, the man to his left, and the desperate hope that he would see the sun rise through the canopy one more time. platoon (1).ljbc
Taylor looked at his hands—shaking, filthy, and holding a weapon. He nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was agreeing with the Sergeant or just trying to keep himself from falling apart. The rain started again, cold and relentless, washing the blood from the leaves but leaving the memories etched deep. "Keep your interval, Taylor," Elias whispered, not even
The mud in the Central Highlands didn’t just stick to your boots; it claimed them. Private Chris Taylor wiped a smear of red clay from his cheek, but the humidity just smeared it back into a mask. It was his third week in-country, and the "new meat" smell hadn’t quite worn off yet. In that moment, college, his parents’ letters, and
