The sands and dreadful noises of countless plane engines, gunfire, explosions, falling bombs and screams of men in agony smothered him. If he focused, he could isolate single sounds, momentarily being able to ignore the others in some sort of silent peace. he had mud all over his body, and his tilted helmet was covered with twigs and leaves in an attempt to blend in with the environment. He stood with his back against the northern wall of the trench, numbly reloading his M-1.
He had just finished loading the ammo when he heard th lieutenant bark some distant orders. He didn't yell too loudly, but him and the rest of the men had trained their ears to be able to hear and understand his orders clearly over the battlefields' noise, so they all followed through. The man was last, so he couldn't hear much, but he saw his mates running from the trench and into the one next to it, and he followed them.
Three...
Two...
One...
It was his turn to go.
He took three long, fast steps, but had to quickly duck and retreat the moment gunfire was heard.
as he waited in the trench for his signal to cross, he felt his fast-pounding heart struggling with the conditions. He swore under his breath.
He hated this place and what it represented, but he was there because he was given no other choice. Most of the time when he was at rest in the trenches he wished he could rise up into the charcoal skies, up, up, up, up and up amongst the clouds, and fly home to finally-
-It was his cue.
He ran towards the other trench, and barely made it, because he felt several burning stings in his left arm, chest and right thigh. He'd been shot.
He didn't yell, bu rather moaned a bit a swore again. Faster than he'd expect it (if at all) a medic arrived to check him, but he didn't really pay much atttention to him; he was so upset by the whole situation it seemed unreal.
So, right there, in that precise moment, he decided he would, in fact, escape. He closed his eyes, and with a quick motion of his feet the man rose up in the air a hundred feet above the battlefield. He stared down as he dodged a passing plane. It seemed almost funny from up there; the explosions looked tiny and gunshots were seldom heard.
He headed west, well above those damned jungles that would've otherwise been the most beautiful paradise, and over lands and seas, so fastly everything went past him in a blur of colors and sounds. He felt a freedom like none before, a peace unbeknownst to men, and so light he actually believed he was weightless.
(circa 2007)
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