Platoon (1).ljbc May 2026

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.

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. platoon (1).ljbc

"Contact!" Barnes roared, and the world dissolved into green and fire. Taylor looked at his hands—shaking, filthy, and holding

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. Around him, the platoon was a collection of

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

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