Arms weak, head spinning, hands cut. Dirt engraved into my face and dust all around. Large deposits of rubble surround me, all I see is the ground underneath me. Distant gun fire draws my attention among the chaotic battle grounds. The sound of fighter jets up above me draws both near and away as they topple over each other. People avoid tragedy, they even hide from it if they can. But one things for sure, you can never run from it. I say this to myself as an enemy squad rolls in, they yell at each other and walk towards me. One butts me on the back with the stock of his gun and raises the barrel up to my head, my death should be swift and easy, no more suffering in this war torn hell hole. I say my prayers as the soldier violently yells some foreign language, I can hear his finger slowly push down on the trigger as I wait. Maybe his gun will jam and give me some time to reflect on my life, maybe not. I close my eyes and relax, thinking about my wife and our newborn son. The soldier re-cocks his gun,
here it comes, 3... 2... 1...