The ground above them was shaking, knocking loose dirt off of the tunnels ceiling.
“Damnit Sorenson, if you have to talk, whisper, you’re gonna get us all killed.”
“Sorry Sarge,” Matthew Sorenson whispered back.
The four soldiers, Sarge, Sorenson, Trips and Fin; trudged along the tunnel, dirt raining down from above them. After about a hundred feet, they encountered another group, coming towards them hurriedly.
“What’s the status men?” Sarge barked.
“The enemy broke through about five hundred feet around the next bend, we’re clearing out.” The leader of the other group replied.
“Damn civil engineers,” Sarge said under his breath, loud enough for Trips, who was directly behind him, to hear.
“Yeah, Sarge, but without them, we would not have this tunnel system to fight in.”
“I know, but couldn’t they show some guts? I mean, how many times have we seen the enemy, and lived to talk about it.?”
“Three sir,” Fin replied, skirting by the other group, who had begun their retreat.
“And we’ve lived to tell the tale, hell, we even have all of our limbs!”
“Yes sir, we do.” Trips responded.
“Well, lets get going. Be ready.”
The four ran on, more dirt, and now loose stones, falling on their heads. As they proceeded, the tunnel began to slowly slope upwards, opening up as they went. The soldiers spread out, and, rounding the corner, saw the enemy, and with a unified bellow of “CHARGE!” ran on.
The battle was over before it started, the anteater’s tongue slid into the tunnel and captured Sarge, Trips. Sorenson, and Fin, before sliding back into the awaiting mouth.
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