Bettina Beehive 3

"karl !"  
"Got..!  this madness...I'm shot"
There's blood in my mouth..and I can't breath in this shrapnel fog, rasping my arm to stem the crimson aegir oozing into grey green regulation kit.  It's fast and sharp and I'm sliding down a bank,  sliding down a bank of raged earth and jagged metal..wait.
I'm marching from Paris, under orders.  I have been on foot for two days and my socks have rotted, I have no other socks. I have bound material around my feet to protect them. It's hot alot of us young ones near to the front of the column, and behind the old enthusiam musters as we trek across France in into Belgium.. 
 he's dead!  Karls dead. 
In the silence I can't hear..deafened by the bombs exploding on all sides of me, I can't hear I can only replay  my own self screaming.
" Mutti ".. I'm going to die, I know it..i'm going to die in this shit.  Look for an exit..look for safety look for sanctuary..but there is none..there is none..it's all above board.. There is nothing here to save me..I am lost in this madness.  I'm going to die