Mud. Mud everywhere. In my boots. In my uniform. In my helmet. In my rifle. Everywhere. There was no escaping it. 

>‘Keep it clean, and it’ll save your life.’ The drill sergeant always said. 

He’d probably know, he was in Normandy back in ‘44. I heard the beach was a hellhole, the assaulting invasion force thrown back into the sea thrice. 

>‘Three times, we marched up the beach, and three times, they cut us down. Even so, we knew that without a foothold, we’d lose Britain. They couldn’t hold out much longer, with the constant air raids. So we kept going.’ 

Pulling the charging handle on the M14, I desperately tried to wipe the mud off the internals. Racking the bolt back and forth, I verified it was going into battery. It was still muddy, but at least it worked.

Then, a faint whistling. My eyes could barely pick up on it. Was growing louder, or was it my imagination? No, it was definitely louder. Mortars. Raining from above. 

>‘BOOM’
>‘BOOM’
>‘BOOM’

I clutched my rifle, laying in my muddy foxhole. Praying. Praying I wouldn’t die in this ditch, in this damn muddy field. Praying I wouldn’t die alone. I thought back to my family. My sister. My mother. Wishing I’d spent more time with them before I was drafted. 

My thoughts were interrupted by an explosion, not 2 feet from my foxhole. I felt the shockwave pull the air out of my lungs, my ears bursting. 

I could still hear the shriek of the Panzerschreck II, as it’s rocket flew mere meters above my hole. I peeked out, towards the treeline. I couldn’t make out a single outline. There! That bush moved! I steadied the ‘14 on the dirt, looking for more movement. Anything. To my left, in another foxhole, the M1949 opened up on the treeline. I followed the red tracers, and shifted my aim. Firing in single shots, I magdumped into the general direction of his fire. Reaching for another magazine, I unbuttoned one of my pouches, grabbed a magazine - and fumbled it, dropping it into the mud. 

>‘Damn.’ I thought as I reached for another pouch. 

Empty. Empty. Empty. 

>‘Shit.’ I reached into the muddy water, searching for the magazine.

The ‘1949 finished its belt change, and started a new round of bursts. Grasping the magazine, I pulled it free of the muddy water, and shook it upside down, hoping to remove as much filth as possible, before inserting it back into the rifle. Out of the bushes came a Sd.Kfz. 255, it’s 20mm tearing up the ground around the 1949. 

>‘OH FUCK!’ My mind screamed, as I shifted to engage the APC. 

The 20mm HE rounds threw dirt 20, maybe 30 meters into the air, and the side-mounted MG44s spat out green tracers like a fiery dragon, covering every inch of ground with german lead. Disembarking, the Germans rushed forward under the covering fire of the Sd.Kfz. 255. Each foxhole had a stick grenade thrown into it, anyone who tried escaping the grenade was shot. I saw Pvt. Peterson make a dash to the knocked-out Sherman, before he was blown into bits by the Sd.Kfz. 255’s 20mm. 

A stick grenade was thrown into my foxhole. Scrambling for it, I tossed it back towards the Krauts. It detonated mid-air, and I threw myself to the top of the foxhole. I was going to take as many as these bastards with me. I lined up a shot on the nearest soldier. The trigger felt like a thousand pounds as I pulled it. 

I awaited a blast of smokeless powder. Nothing. The M14 had jammed.

>‘No. No. NO. NO!’ I desperately rammed the charging handle home, again and again. 

I could see him, running closer. 10 feet. 5 feet. Charging at me, bayonet fixed. Finally, I slammed the M14 into battery, and raised my rifle, too slowly. Then, I saw it. The dirty bayonet, coated in mud, with my name engraved on it. Waiting for it to plunge into me, it lasted what seemed like an eternity. I saw the fury in his eyes. Even though I saw his mouth screaming, I heard nothing. I felt the blade enter my chest. The sharp pain piercing inwards. I couldn't breath anymore. Fading back into the mud. Everything returns to the mud. 

The last thing I could remember is the drill sergeant yelling at us. 

>‘Keep it clean, and it’ll save your life.’