A day in the trenches

Read from a Soldier's point of view, Jim

The air smells of mud, blood, and a hint of residual mustard gas. The ground beneath my boots being slick with mud as The sarge walks by, going god knows where. The air is thick with tension as we await orders, or the next attempted raid. Those German bastards are relentless, It's a miracle we're still here. "Ay, Jim, whadaya think the ol' reaper is thinking up there?" I look and there's Ben. "Oh shit, probably wonderin' when to make us slip" I respond "never know really." Ben chuckles, it's nice to have some lighthearted banter here and there. Like a breath of fresh air. Untainted with mustard gas and god knows what else. I then eat, my "food" if you can even call it that, more an unrecognizable slop called "beef stew". That's a fucking lie if I ever heard one, stew don't come from tins! Whatever, better than starving. It was bland, damn near tasteless. I wish this war were over by now. Just then, I hear "MUSTARD GAS BARRAGE!!!" as shells hit the ground, I get my mask on in time thankfully, others... Not so much, they cough, giant grotesque cysts growing on their exposed faces, they collapse one by one, and their eyes lose their shine. They're dead, looking like they poked a beehive. I grab my rifle as I ready to shoot at Germans, none come. The rest was uneventful, thankfully so.