Dying Breath.

The sounds of bullets raining down on the ground in the central hub of the trench pattering like streaks or rain as blood is flung from body to body leaving all in attendance distraught or dismembered. The screams of men and women fighting cowardly, hopefully, desperately, heroically for life and country. What would be the concern for the leaders on both ends of such assault? The life of their men? The wants of their men? Their own greed and ambition? What mantra could push such fighting forward?

Malary was rushing towards the wounded, trying her best to save whoever she could. Bullets flying past her from all directions. Anybody that looked upon her would could see a visable aura of bravery. Malary hadn't so much as ever shot at a target for more than needed. Her mantra of saving, not taking lives seeping into her own. Medical Captain Moashka Malary her direct orders protect Private Kender and the makeshift medbay at all costs.

"What could the Lieutenant be thinking? She's fighting directly in the front. She's the only officer of any real rank still left in the area if she dies these people will be left in disarray, that fight would be over. We'd all follow after" Malary mumbled to herself as she bandaged an unconscious soldier who'd been stabbed through his lower abdomen but wasn't fatally wounded. "The sounds are closing in, this can't be good...how much longer can we hold out like this?"

Two soldiers run as a loud explosion goes off at the front entrance of the base. "Run, there's too many we can't win escape from the back" the soldiers wretch, dropping their weapons. "How dare you! Cowards, hold the line! They can't have much firepower. If we hold them up they will be left with only blades. Think! It's a battle of attrition." Mika screamed as the moral of the soldiers plummeted.