The mud clung to every crevice. The constant shrill rattle of artillery in the distance was a grim harbinger that life here was fragile. We huddled together, hoping for comfort in each other's presence. The silence between the barrages of fire was more oppressive than the chaos itself. Every whisper could be an foe, every shadow a hidden sniper. Su

The mud clung to every crevice. The constant shrill rattle of artillery in the distance was a grim constant that life here was precarious. We huddled together, trying for strength in each other's faces. The stillness between the attacks of fire was more terrifying than the chaos itself. Every sound could be an enemy, every shadow a hidden sniper. S

The mud clung to every gap. The constant shrill clang of artillery in the distance was a grim reminder that life here was tenuous. We huddled together, searching for comfort in each other's faces. The silence between the bursts of fire was more terrifying than the chaos itself. Every noise could be an threat, every shadow a hidden killer. Survival