He hides behind the low wall, trading fire with his opponent. They have been at this for over an hour, each trying to get a kill shot. Between volleys, he wonders if he will ever see home again. Lifting his head one last time, he finally finds his target.
Tired but relieved, he leans against the wall and closes his eyes. “Home,” he thinks. Images of rolling hills, clear mountain water, crisp autumn air, and his girl…
A few minutes later more troops arrive. “Looks like he got ‘em,” says one.
“Same here,” says another. “Looks like he’s going home.”