The muck clung to every crack. The constant piercing thump of artillery in the distance was a grim constant that life here was tenuous. We huddled together, hoping for solace in each other's company. The quiet between the attacks of fire was more soul-crushing than the chaos itself. Every noise could be an threat, every shadow a hidden killer. Endu

The mud clung to every gap. The constant deafening clang of artillery in the distance was a grim reminder that life here was fragile. We huddled together, hoping for solace in each other's presence. The quiet between the attacks of fire was more oppressive than the chaos itself. Every sound could be an threat, every shadow a hidden killer. Survival

The muck clung to every crack. The constant piercing thump of artillery in the distance was a grim harbinger that life here was fragile. We huddled together, trying for comfort in each other's presence. The silence between the attacks of fire was more terrifying than the chaos itself. Every noise could be an foe, every shadow a hidden sniper. Survi