SOUNDS FROM THE FRONT LINES

Sounds from the Front Lines

The mud clung to every crevice. The constant shrill clang of artillery in the distance was a grim harbinger that life here was tenuous. We huddled together, hoping for solace in each other's faces. The silence between the attacks of fire was more oppressive than the chaos itself. Every noise could be an threat, every shadow a hidden killer. Surviva

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Sounds from the Front Lines

The sludge clung to every crevice. The constant shrill thump of artillery in the distance was a grim harbinger that life here was fragile. We huddled together, searching for comfort in each other's presence. The quiet between the barrages of fire was more soul-crushing than the chaos itself. Every noise could be an foe, every shadow a hidden killer

read more