#FiveSentenceFiction: Dancing

For forgotten heroes

British artillery troops passing village bombed by enemy aircraft The silent church was hidden behind sand bags and a heteroclite assembly of scaffoldings and canvas, derisory protection for its ancient coloured windows.

In the distance could be heard the deep rumble of enemy’s artillery, under a leaden sky.

His platoon had sought refuge in the now abandoned village, and the ruins of once charming houses, out of place in the tortured landscape.

The men were exhausted, ill, their faces grey, their hearts hopeless in bottomless despair.

It was November, 1917, in his mind danced the distant memories of peace.

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