Tonight was almost perfect: the soothing rustling of the trees as it moved with the nice refreshing night breeze, the crickets stridulating in unison, the beaming moonlight and the twinkling of the stars against the clear night skies. Perfect… almost. Tonight would’ve been amazing if not for the cold, heavy, metallic feel of the rifle in my hand doing two things simultaneously: detaching me from my wishful thinking and tethering me to the reality of where we are and what we are about to do.
Armed with guns, our army battalion slyly infiltrate the enemy’s territory. As we wait for the signal to move, I can hear that wild beating in my chest. It seemed so loud against the peace and quiet of the night.
And then we started moving. Taking step after careful step to reach the enemy camp.
Right. Left. Right. Left. As stealthily as possible.
Right. Left. Right. Left. Cautious not to make the slightest sound.
Right. Left. Right. Left. Almost there.
Right. Left. Rig-- Click. Careful not to move my feet and cause any weight shift, I stood motionless.
“Damn.” I mumbled.
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