The man next to Shiod dies. He is hit by a shell that explodes not a meter from us. In an instant we are covered in dirt. It comes over us like an ocean’s wave. My ears and mouth are especially vulnerable and are filled. Kat digs me out and I, gasping and spitting, help Shiod. Vanmere is spared from the whole of it by a stroke of luck.
The dead man lay where he’d previously stood, but only his lower torso and legs remain. The rest is gone, blown away in a blast that leaves the rest of us shaken but otherwise unhurt. I stare until Kat shakes me back to myself.
We have become numb to the falling of shells. Outside of the dugout we watch flashes of ordinance like one might watch a lightning storm. The explosions that rock the room are taken in stride. Once a direct hit cracks the mortar on the walls and there is some panic, but the support beams hold. It had been a small shell.
Kat suggests a game of cards. We try a few hands but we are too intent on listening to the cries of shells outside and soon give it up. The fear of them is gone but simple survival remains. If one of the large Lees land close enough we will have to make a dive for it or be buried alive. When told this, Vanmere turns green but does not try to run again. Continue reading →