Not many men last in no man’s land, all soldiers fear it like children do the beast under their bed. You’ve cycled back up, the duck boards do nothing to prevent squelchy mud from seeping in through the defences of your boots and threatening to impose trench foot,

When fellow soldiers start to shout about the creeping barrages, and watching as gun fire snakes closer to the soggy trenches makes everything 10 times worse, sh!t hits the fan, you’re mind is a whir of static, not a single thought coming to your head except the natural instinct to keep your life.

The only thing able to knock you out of your panic stricken daze is the cutting, booming voice of a commander from the foes creeping ever closer with large, frightening guns in hand. “стрелять!” When you look up, a gun meets your eye, but then it lowers in favour of just shooting your thigh, a non vital area.

“Fuck this damn war…” He mutters under his breath, he intends to help you, he doesn’t have it in his heart to kill, and it pains him enough that he’s had to shoot a young woman, regardless that your his enemy.