"You're still here, kid," Elias said softly. "Just remember why you're here. Don't let the jungle become who you are."
"Contact!" Barnes roared, and the world dissolved into green and fire.
They were moving toward the Cambodian border, a place where the maps grew fuzzy and the rules of engagement even fuzzier. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting vegetation—a smell Taylor knew he would never get out of his lungs. platoon (1).ljbc
Taylor looked at his hands—shaking, filthy, and holding a weapon. He nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was agreeing with the Sergeant or just trying to keep himself from falling apart. The rain started again, cold and relentless, washing the blood from the leaves but leaving the memories etched deep.
Around him, the platoon was a collection of ghosts draped in olive drab. There was Sergeant Elias, who moved through the elephant grass like he was part of the wind, and Barnes, whose face was a roadmap of scars and a reminder that surviving often meant losing your soul. "You're still here, kid," Elias said softly
"Keep your interval, Taylor," Elias whispered, not even turning his head. "The jungle has eyes, and they like it when we huddle."
A twig snapped. It sounded like a gunshot in the oppressive stillness. They were moving toward the Cambodian border, a
As the smoke cleared and the medic moved toward a downed soldier, Elias appeared beside Taylor, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.
