The stench is in my clothes
Rotting corpses lined the field for a long time around. Filing the craters left from
their artillery. From
THEIR hate!
It has filled my mind
They were my friends...same class...filled with a fervor to protect the Fatherland...
It's filled my heart
Sergeant Alan Miller scanned the horizon with his rifle from the trench. His men were dead, the enemy was dead.
But the ENEMY still came.
It was like every time he put one down, another sprang up to take its place.
He was beginning to wish that his men were still alive...
And that he didn't have to kill them again.
Private John Wallseye was being a particularly hard one to find.
And it INFURIATED HIM.*
BANG!
Got one.
He held the grimy pair of binoculars up to his eyes and gazed out to see who he shot.
And he saw the twisted, rotting face of Private Mitchell Black, bleeding black pus from a bullet hole in his head.
The stench is in my clothes
Alan pulled the bolt back on his rifle, letting the empty shell fall to the ground as the new one was chambered.
It has filled my mind
He lifted the rifle back up, letting the scope become level with his eye.
It has filled my heart
He watched as Private John Wallseye shambled over and began feasting on the flesh of Private Mitchell Black. He let his head fill his sights.
BANG!
Got one.