The Mouth of Hell
Falaise is a nightmare; the fifth circle of Hell. Bodies lay strewn amongst the broken buildings and tanks, wounded men screamed in horrible agony, and soldiers ran about, shouting to one another.
My ears ring terribly from the clatter of machine guns, shots of rifles and the boom of mortars and artillery.
Flynn was hit and falls face first into the grass.
I lost sight of Taylor. Dear God, where is he?! Taylor!
Veterans and replacements alike fall before my very eyes only to lie still and say nothing more.
Blood runs down the side of my face. I have a cut around my temple but I don't know what it is from.
My breathing comes in desperate, ragged gasps. My chest hurts, my entire body aches. Forget that I'm sick, that matters very little right now.
I run to Flynn and check on him. He's alive but in a monumental amount of pain. He urges me to leave him so I don't get hit. I obey without a word and run off, selfishly concerned for my own safety.
Everything is confusing. It takes my mind awhile to process what is happening since it is so overwhelming. All I can do is fire my rifle blindly towards the German side and hope that I hit my target.
It goes on for hours or what feels like hours.
Eventually it gradually gets quiet. Then silence takes over. An unstable calm settles. The Germans are subdued for now.
I still can't find Taylor. Flynn gets carried away by medics while Grayson looks on with a blank stare. He looks like a statue.
Our uniforms are covered in dust, we all look like walking statues.
I can't fathom what has happened.