They slept in piles, huddled together in ditches or brush or foxholes if they were lucky enough. How many days since they’d landed here? Ten? Fifteen? Too long to go without a shower, that was for sure. They all stunk, some worse than the bloated corpses of German soldiers that littered the hedgerows. Still, they stuck close to one another. For comfort. For security. For each other.
Story Notes:Written in 2010.