Platoon (1).ljbc May 2026

Taylor looked at his hands—shaking, filthy, and holding a weapon. He nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was agreeing with the Sergeant or just trying to keep himself from falling apart. The rain started again, cold and relentless, washing the blood from the leaves but leaving the memories etched deep.

Around him, the platoon was a collection of ghosts draped in olive drab. There was Sergeant Elias, who moved through the elephant grass like he was part of the wind, and Barnes, whose face was a roadmap of scars and a reminder that surviving often meant losing your soul. platoon (1).ljbc

A twig snapped. It sounded like a gunshot in the oppressive stillness. Taylor looked at his hands—shaking, filthy, and holding