Title:           WW1 Anon (slave pone)
Author:          Maxim_
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/GQVEed0F
First Edit:      Tuesday 16th of February 2016 09:51:38 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Tuesday 16th of February 2016 10:22:49 PM CDT

November, 1914, East Africa
 
>you stir from your slumber to the sound of whistling
>it was a somber tune, yet soothing
>like a lullaby
>lacking complexity, it made up in emotion
>a wave of euphoria washed over you
>it reminded you of home
 
>then it stopped as soon as it started
>and with it went your rememberance of home
>the cold, steel hand or reality forced you back to the present
>as you rose from your wooden cot you noticed something
>John's was empty
>next to the Maxim on the lip of the trench was the silhouette of John Dennison
>you notice that his lighter is lit aflame
>the tanga mud softened your footsteps as you approached him
>he clearly did not acknowledge your presence, his attention focused on nothing
>such a peaceful night has no place here
>you guys were being picked off, trench by trench
>Kennith's platoon wad ambushed last night due to one of the bastards leaving a lantern on
>pikeheads were drawn to it like moths to a-
>the lighter!
>without a second thought you yank him back to earth by the elbow, eliciting a yelp
>Dennison's lighter lands in a puddle with a patter, the flame disappearing instantly
>"what the hell anon!"
>"that was my bloody fuckin lighter mate!"
"And you and your little birdsong and lightshow could have killed us!"
>our tussle was interrupted by a third party
>"what in the hell are you two tossers doing at this hour," shit, our CO woke. "Those ponies of theirs can hear us miles off, and we're only a few hundred yards away!"
>Wallace, our Commanding Officer, was right
>the war has been an uphill battle since the germans discovered those magical horses
>reminded you of your childhood vacations to shetland
>"get the fuck back to sleep."
>that was the end of it.
>both of us shut up afterwards, fearing Wallace's wrath
>you brace yourself for the inevitable hell you will recieve tomorrow