Mothers Pancakes

“This is where we draw a line in the sand, boys!”

I somehow managed to filter out the Lt’s words through the horde of explosions, shrapnel, and screaming.  I couldn’t move.  My legs were there – I know, I kept checking.

“MOVE IT!” he bellowed.

All I wanted to do was sleep.  Exhausted, stomach growling.  Even the thought of my army rations seemed heavenly.  With enough concentration, that slop could be mothers pancakes.

The Lieutenant grabbed me by my collar and belt, heaving me out of my foxhole.  I scampered to find another, slowly inching my way up the line.

I’m so sick of this shit.  I just want to go home.

via Daily Prompt: Cranky


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