The Trenches

David and Joe huddled in a fox hole; a few feet away, Mark, Bryan, and Steve were crouched in another. The steep earthen walls crumbled and dirt slithered to the ground as another mortar shell landed nearby.

"Join the Army, they said. See the world they said," Joe grumbled, shifting as more dirt found it's way down his shirt. He felt like it was caked on an inch thick by now.

David's smile was crooked, "this isn't the Army, we are a branch of the Marines. We go where they tell us, do what they tell us, no questions."

David stood up and fired a few rounds at the enemy. The screams of pain reported a direct hit. "I feel a bit like that game Whack-a-Mole. We pop up and pop down. And if we're lucky, we don't get hit back," David said as he crouched back beside Joe.

"At least can we have a war where it's cooler?" Joe asked, mopping the sweat out of his eyes and taking a long pull from his canteen.

"Can't help that the hot spots in the world right now are in the Middle East," David said, shrugging, and taking a swallow of his own warm water. He took in one more mouthful, swishing it around, and standing, spit it out quickly to get the grit out of his mouth. "Just imagine being in Alaska, salmon fishing in the rivers," David said, sitting back down, "at least trench warfare is nothing like it was in the other wars. Here it's relatively clean and sanitary."

"Hey Boss!" Steve hollered from the other hole.

"Yeah?"

"What is the deepest part of the ocean?"

"Challenger Deep," David hollered back.

David could hear a scuffle from the next hole over, and a faint, "ha, I told you so. Pay up."

David rolled his eyes. His team could be immature, but he wouldn't trust his life to any other group of men.

"Hey boss!" It was Bryan this time.

"What?"

"When can we go home?"

"We go home when we've won," David said.

"When we've won," He whispered to himself.