There we were our hearts beating hard, with the adrenaline to reach the barracks, but there was one whose heart was not rushing or bating like ours, but was at a standstill: it was our commanding lieutenant.
During world war one, I was recruited in a battalion in the US army, against a German stronghold. My comrades and were given orders to storm that stronghold, using a diversion and attacking from the side.
The diversion went perfectly and led by our commanding lieutenant, we approached the stronghold. Inside it, there was no one, except on the roof, which we did not expect. On the lower floor, the only thing heard was the creaking of our footsteps, and then things went wrong. It was an ambush, starting off with a grenade from the enemy, from which our lieutenant saved us by sacrificing his life.
We managed to extract him from there, and with a few men and I, rushed him to the army doctor’s barracks. Managed to escape the bullets coming towards us, we laid the lieutenant in the doctor’s barracks, but our hearts sunk when we were told that it was hard for him to survive.
Outside the barracks, the only thing heard was the bullets being fired from the distant stronghold, added by that, the sound of electric pulses used to revive the lieutenant’s heart. The doctor to us in vain and said, “We did everything we could, but it was still not enough.” We were all set-a-back.
Another news, shinning some light, was that the stronghold had been taken, but only because of our lieutenant, we were given the chance to capture it. He was truly, a war-hero.