Desert Storm

 

My short story, below the picture prompt below, is written for Sunday Photo Fiction.

167-08-august-7th-2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

He heard the soft “puff” as the M4 rifle launched its grapnel. He knew then that the  combat engineers were beginning their mission.

The desert sand was hot even in the dark of the night. He knew he did not have much time before he lost consciousness. He felt nothing below his knees. His legs were in all probability gone. He knew he had stepped on a land mine. A quick look to his left revealed his buddy Hector or at least what remained of Hector.

“More to the right”  he shouted to his invisible fellow soldiers. He heard the grapnel hit behind his head and could see the trailing cable begin its journey back.  They had tried to talk him out of performing such a suicide mission. But he was in command and they would follow. The grappling hook dragged backwards was used to detonate trip-wire fused land mines. It was 99 per cent effective.

 

 

2 comments

  1. He should have listened, poor guy. One of my dad’s cousins was married to a vet who lost both legs just above the knee in WWII. He was a big guy and had played football in high school. He was taught to drive a special car. He used to drive we kids around. Nice man. Good writing, Danny. —- Suzanne

    Liked by 1 person

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