The Fog of War

        A thundering boom shocked my entire world. I snapped my eyes open and saw my friends around me in the trench. They all reached for their weapons and braced as I heard another mortar shell land nearby and rapid fire of machine guns bombard the area. I froze in my laying position in shock. My friends returned fire and one, James, had half his head blown off. Phil took cover next to me and fired off a few rounds before shaking me to attention. "They're coming by the dozens private! Get up and fight dammit. Do you h-" he was drowned out by another mortar and the gunshots seemed to get louder. "Goddammit we need you Kevin," Phil shouted as he took aim again. As I tried to muster my courage, I saw one of them on the other side of the trench. "Phil!"

It was to late; the man raised his rifle and shot Phil in the back. I felt pure rage enter my body as I reached for my .45 that always laid next to me. I heard a voice break through my anger. "How did he get there." I grasped the handle, "We had guards all night." I leveled the gun to his chest. "This doesn't make sense!" 

The gunshot echoed through my house. At the foot of my bed stood my fifteen year old son. He looked from me to the hole in his chest before speaking in a confused voice. "Dad? I came to- check-you. I know you-hate storms," he collapsed to the ground and for a moment the only sound was the rain pattering on the roof.

My scream was muffled by another thundering boom.