War Zone

I can smell the salt of the ocean as my heart pounds, my hands shake, But the drink warms me, calms me. I battle my way to the surface and bob there like a cork, bombs are flying, bullets falling, I can already see the dead. One of my men in the boat behind me whispers a prayer and marks the holy cross upon himself, the only word I catch is ‘Amen’ and then my sense’s are filled with the stinging salt and the blooded sea water.