Platoon (1).ljbc -

As the smoke cleared and the medic moved toward a downed soldier, Elias appeared beside Taylor, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.

Around him, the platoon was a collection of ghosts draped in olive drab. There was Sergeant Elias, who moved through the elephant grass like he was part of the wind, and Barnes, whose face was a roadmap of scars and a reminder that surviving often meant losing your soul. platoon (1).ljbc

Suddenly, the jungle went silent. The rhythmic chirping of insects cut out like a snapped wire. Elias raised a hand, and the platoon froze, sinking into the foliage. Taylor’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird in a cage. He gripped his rifle until his knuckles turned white. As the smoke cleared and the medic moved

"Keep your interval, Taylor," Elias whispered, not even turning his head. "The jungle has eyes, and they like it when we huddle." Suddenly, the jungle went silent

"Contact!" Barnes roared, and the world dissolved into green and fire.

"You're still here, kid," Elias said softly. "Just remember why you're here. Don't let the jungle become who you are."

Taylor looked at his hands—shaking, filthy, and holding a weapon. He nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was agreeing with the Sergeant or just trying to keep himself from falling apart. The rain started again, cold and relentless, washing the blood from the leaves but leaving the memories etched deep.