"Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green."
My gun was cold, a platform for the snow. Steady it rested on my rifle. My warm breath turning into steam as it came into contact with the freezing winter air.
"That host with their banners at sunset were seen:"
I lay still on the ground, buried under a couple inches of snow. Waiting. The window of opportunity had long been closed but the room was stuffy with potential and it was about to be opened again. The moment it does, it is my duty to destroy those who peek into that window.
"Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,"
My heartbeat was slow, as it was trained to be. My hand was steady, as I was taught to have it. My mind was clear, as I needed it to be. I waited.
"That host on the morrow lay withered and strown."
The crunching of snow in the distance snatched my attention. My skin grew warm as blood rushed faster, adrenaline flowed through me, my finger slowly wrapping around the trigger. The gleam of the dark field green helmet was all I needed to see.
"For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,"
The sound of a .30 caliber round being fired from its casing echoed through the white forest. The head that the helmet was protecting snapped back, confirmed kill.
"And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;"
It was then that the shouting began again. Lonely, one sided shouting. The enemy were communicating in an angry language. Krauts yelling back and forth, panicking, not knowing the source of the shot. They marched forward, heads down, on high alert.
"And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill."
I took aim once again a Schirmmütze decorated the middle of my iron sight. Once this shot was taken, all resources would be exhausted, my location would be compromised and a trip back home would be within the comfort of a black bag. But duty came before me. Always.
"And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still."
ns 18.68.41.150da2
