Take cover

***PRIVATE CHAPLIN*** Missiles fired in the air. The soldiers took in smoky and harsh breaths. This was the second deployment for Private Chaplin. He applied pressure on his comrade’s bleeding torso. Heavy shots were taken by his fellow squad members over the sand heap barrier.      He tapped his cheeks incessantly, “Stay with me Amez.”      “I am going die man,” Amez whimpered with a light note of anguish and pain.       “Put the cloth on the wound Hugo,” Chaplin turned to the quivering private who had his cap on sideways. The private hurriedly went down to his knees. “And don’t let go of him,” Chaplin pulled away.      “It is too late for me now, tell Isabela I love her and our unborn child,” Amez groaned pulling out a black and white photo of a young woman with a rose in her hair.      Chaplin grabbed the picture and held it in Amez’s hand, “You are going to tell her yourself. A mile from here and we’ll reach our outpost.”      “What makes you say that?” Another soldier joined them