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Weekly Contest #45
21st May, 1982 The soldier lay hidden among a jagged, tangle of sea-scrubbed, grey-green and sodden lumps of spiky tussac grass. Somewhere behind him the first subtle changes in the sky heralded the onset of daylight. He was on the northern edge of the sandy beach, desperately searching the jet-black sea in front of him for his comrades. The previous day’s storm had passed, although the foam-flecked waves still had the power to show their anger at his insolence, in being at that place at that time. He’d been there for a consid...
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