The Foxhole

 

 

    Not until you are in one can you understand the closeness of dirt and the taste of fear.  Imaginary toe-tags flying overhead, their dangling strings trying to snag you as they pass. Distant conversations of muted importance find their way into your nervous system, when suddenly all is quiet.  You are hoping it is over, everyone can go home, but your heartbeat is noticeably loud and is about to give away your position.