(1).ljbc - Platoon

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.

"Keep your interval, Taylor," Elias whispered, not even turning his head. "The jungle has eyes, and they like it when we huddle." platoon (1).ljbc

As the smoke cleared and the medic moved toward a downed soldier, Elias appeared beside Taylor, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. Taylor looked at his hands—shaking, filthy, and holding

"You're still here, kid," Elias said softly. "Just remember why you're here. Don't let the jungle become who you are." "Keep your interval, Taylor," Elias whispered, not even

A twig snapped. It sounded like a gunshot in the oppressive stillness.

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.

Tracers stitched the air like burning needles. Taylor fell back, his ears ringing, the chaos swallowing his thoughts. In that moment, college, his parents’ letters, and the world back home felt like a dream he had once had. Here, there was only the mud, the man to his left, and the desperate hope that he would see the sun rise through the canopy one more time.