ADRENALINE

Tracer lit the night
While the screams of the dying
Were drowned out
By the exploding shells

No longer cold or wet
No thoughts of hunger.
Just a surge, a rush
The body'd come alive.

©Copyright November 2001 by James McE. Love

Author’s Note: It is said that war is made with long periods of boredom interspersed with frantic bursts of activity. I can tell you... It is!