Thursday, June 14, 2012


This is another tiny little piece of the WWII story. 
To the South extended the desert, a flat plain dry and lifeless. Mountains raising up in the distance hazy in the 105 degree heat. Neil didn't want to get back into the tank again. It was even hotter than out here in the blazing Sun.

He readjusted the head covering he was wearing to block the Sun better. The beads of sweat were constantly annoying when they reached his eyes. Absent-mindedly he swiped his hand across to remove them.

Sergeant Williams called to him "we need to get moving Bennet".

"Yeah, yeah" Neil retorted "I'm coming".

He then picked up a rock and threw it out into the desert. As far as he was concerned 8th Army could kiss his ass. It's not like they really needed him in Tripoli anyways. So what if Rommel was there?

Walking back towards the tank he could see Private Benson was already in the drivers seat. That kid was in a bad place, he didn't deserve to be here. Poor kid was from some farm in Wisconsin until this stupid war happened.

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