The winter winds blew South. An earsplitting horn sounded from a distance. The ensuing silence lasts for another forty days.

After, in the dawn of April third, a single red smoke signal fired from the front. The soft rustling of steel barrel rifles puts everyone on high alert. Then, a scream escaped from the left-most of the trenches.

“Your ration cards are inside the hunter-green pouches that were handed out before.” a commanding voice bellows in the dimly lit makeshift tent. Sizable metal food cartridges littered the tiny area. The smell of gunpowder is prominently in the air. Meanwhile, empty shells collected in a dustpan in the corner. Maps are strewn across the tables with dark red markings on key locations. The atmosphere is thin and suffocating. For the moment, an overwhelming silence sweeps over the gathering. We were in the middle of a thick forest just South-West of the battlefield.

“Continuing on, we are currently in the midst of heavy gunfire from the north. Our targets are being fortified as we speak. The terrain onwards forward from here is far from tricky but will impose huge challenges on our soldiers. Therefore, we will need you guys to back them up.” Sergeant Oden instructs.

He continues: “This upcoming battle will not decide the war. But it will likely tip the scale between who is likely to end up victorious at the end of their campaign. We will need reinforcements from every section of the battalion. We need everyone to step up.”

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“Also, no one is allowed to leave this area without an exceptional excuse. Failure to adhere to orders will result in quarantine in the army barracks. Let’s give our best to our soldiers.” He changed his tune gracefully.

If this happened during peacetime, there will immediately be a collective groan. However, the silence is deafening.

Everybody knew what their role is, and why they were there.

I stared at the space between my feet. My hands are trembling as this was my first deployment. And especially so since it was this close to the actual battlefields. Oden gestures to the logistics head. We were heading in.

1.20 am May 14th

The seagulls gloated at our plight from far in the skies. We could not see six meters ahead of us.

The ground is muddy due to the rain from the night before. An uncountable number of ash-green clothes are being hung out to dry on the battlefield

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Click. Click. Click. The sounds of the soldiers reloading their ammunition filled the unusual silence. It is not day when the enemies could see us that was the most dangerous. But instead, it was nightfall when neither could that was so.

I ruminated about the families of the soldiers. They were separated by thousands of kilometres and they cannot see each other. Meanwhile, their enemies are closer than a train station away. I could only start to imagine their state of mind in this likely-to-be-fatal assignment.

A lone soldier prepared a canister four metres away from us. Another is smoking and drinking but there is no joy in his face. Grenades of uniform sizes lined their pockets. The incessant beep from the communication radio can be heard far away from within the grey makeshift tent. Then, a cryptic message is intercepted-