Over The Top
You sit for hours inside the dugout, waiting for the shelling to stop. Each blast sends a shower of dirt cascading down on you from between the dugout’s beams. Some of the men in the dugout are playing cards, while others merely sit and stare at the ceiling. One man sits in one corner, swaying back and forth with his hands clapped over his ears.
From another corner, you see a large, black rat, roughly the size of a cat, peer its’ head from behind a small stove. It sniffs hungrily at the air and fixes its gaze on a small, mouldy piece of cheese, just a few feet away.