Platoon (1).ljbc Apr 2026

A twig snapped. It sounded like a gunshot in the oppressive stillness.

The mud in the Central Highlands didn’t just stick to your boots; it claimed them. Private Chris Taylor wiped a smear of red clay from his cheek, but the humidity just smeared it back into a mask. It was his third week in-country, and the "new meat" smell hadn’t quite worn off yet. platoon (1).ljbc

As the smoke cleared and the medic moved toward a downed soldier, Elias appeared beside Taylor, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. A twig snapped

Taylor looked at his hands—shaking, filthy, and holding a weapon. He nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was agreeing with the Sergeant or just trying to keep himself from falling apart. The rain started again, cold and relentless, washing the blood from the leaves but leaving the memories etched deep. Private Chris Taylor wiped a smear of red

"You're still here, kid," Elias said softly. "Just remember why you're here. Don't let the jungle become who you are."