The muck clung to every crevice. The constant shrill rattle of artillery in the distance was a grim reminder that life here was precarious. We huddled together, searching for strength in each other's presence. The silence between the attacks of fire was more oppressive than the chaos itself. Every whisper could be an foe, every shadow a hidden kill
Sounds from the Front Lines
The muck clung to every crack. The constant deafening thump of artillery in the distance was a grim reminder that life here was precarious. We huddled together, searching for solace in each other's faces. The stillness between the bursts of fire was more terrifying than the chaos itself. Every whisper could be an foe, every shadow a hidden assailan
Sounds from the Trenches
The sludge clung to every gap. The constant shrill clang of artillery in the distance was a grim constant that life here was fragile. We huddled together, searching for strength in each other's company. The quiet between the bursts of fire was more oppressive than the chaos itself. Every sound could be an threat, every shadow a hidden assailant. En