Pseudopod 063: The Western Front
November 9th, 2007
Read by Paul Jenkins
We crawled forward. My hand pressed on a face jutting from the mud. I turned away and forced myself not to vomit.
A shell ruptured the earth nearby. Mud hammered over me. I bit my tongue to stop myself screaming. I rubbed the mud from my face.
When I could see again, I realised my men were no longer in sight. Panic took me. “Wait,” I whispered. “Wait.”
No one answered.
Remember Veteran’s Day, Nov 11.
