The moans and cries of soldiers soon to die, Shells fly shaking the muddy ground beneath our feat, sending shrapnel and molten metal all around, flaying and tearing the skin of the me that fight beside me, causing tears to swell up in my eyes and threaten to escape and roll down my tired and exhausted and they one when I see the gored and gouged corpses of  what is left of those unfortunate men who now lay either dead or begging for it too end as their screams for help are drown out by the blood that floods their lungs as they succumb to the thousands of shards of metal that tore through them, leading them to a brutal end, and  I would have joined them if I hadn’t made the choice to run and dive back into the trenches our only safe haven, and as I raise my head still shaking from the adrenaline of nearly meeting my end, my blood runs cold, as I make the mistake of catching a second glance of the aftermath of that artillery bombardment and the carnage that it left in its path, I see my good friend that’s been by my side since our first days of bootcamp, when we were still naïve and ignorant to just how horrible war could be, but in the end it was no different he’s just another man to die in the chaos that ensues on the battle field just another good man lost to war another candle blown out on its alter, another soul to join those we loved who passed but there is a difference in how he died, he met his end fighting while I still live only by a cowardly decision to retreat back at the last second, I roll over these thought in my mind as I look at my friend on last time, and come to realization that I can use my choice to retreat back into the trenches to return the favor to our foe on the other end by taking a few of theirs to even out the numbers and to avenge my now deceased from, so I cock my rifle, zero my sights and glance one last time at my friend who lies on the ground, face all but completely scorched and gored, and curse and pray to whatever god or deity that looks over this war torn plain filled to the brim with dead men, blood and tears and pure unbridled, primal fear, but none of this I feel as I line up my shot, make my mark and think to what I'm fighting for, to find I fight for my rights, the ones I love and my country, so I wrap my finger around the cold spring steel that fires my weapon of war and close my eyes as I give a slight tug and feel the shock of the rifle as its hammer hits the primer in sends the bullet down the rifled barrel, and open them to watch my target fall to the floor out of site behind the trenches wall on the other side, past all the razor wire, land mines and dead men that make up the fetid no man lands,  but even though the odds are slim I still remain confident that we will win, that we will prevail for we fight for what is right, with unwavering loyalties and camaraderie fueled by the thoughts of what will happen if we fail, it gives us, it gives me the energy to prevail.