"Get up!"
Captain Yadwu of the 11th Infantry Company bellowed as he stormed into the tent.
"Get up now!"
"Piss off, or I'll kill you."
A soldier rolled over in his sleeping bag and told his captain exactly that.
Yadwu kicked the soldier in the ass, a large target that was very easy to aim at.
"Get up! Or I'll kill you first! Pig!"
The soldier immediately sprang to his feet, rubbing his assaulted rear and blinking in the dim light of the tent.
His head was a mess as he numbly tried to distinguish real memories from the dream he had just been having.
"What's going on?"
The other soldiers scrambled up as well. It was still early morning, and the sun had not fully risen.
Yadwu stared at them. There was a trace of unease in the captain's eyes, an expression a tall, powerfully built man like him had never needed before.
"Wake up! The enemy is coming!"
The soldiers rushed toward the tent entrance, hopping as they tried to put on their boots while running.
By then, everyone could hear the sound clearly.
That shuddering rumble.
From a certain distance away, battle had a distinctive sound.
The trembling earth, the roar of engines, the shriek of weapons, the muffled thud of explosions, the cries of men—everything intertwined into an ominous whisper, like the savage growl of some beast slowly awakening beyond the hills.
It always heralded either the day when the lucky ones on the battlefield kept their lives, or a moment the survivors would never forget.
Outside the tents, the sky was dim, and the camp was in chaos as soldiers hurriedly prepared for battle.
Yadwu raised his head to look at the sky. The slowly turning clouds had taken on a strange red hue, like