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Weekly Contest #354
When I got off the truck, all I saw was mud. Mud everywhere—so much, my ankles were already sinking in it. Horses were chained to artillery, heaving against the smoke that released each time one of the cannons behind them fired into No Man’s Land. This must have been a meadow, once, where families used to picnic. All that remained of its former beauty was a single oak tree. A soldier grabbed me by the shoulders. “What are you standing around for?” I saluted hastily. “I-I’ve just arrived, Sir. I’m a trained mechanic, and I’m looking for the t...
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