Crossfire

The corridor leading from the prison cell with the splintery, warped wooden sleeping bench and mildew-laden walls was narrow, barely wide enough for the injured American soldier to stumble alongside the guard who roughly guided his wounded body. United States Marine Corps First Lieutenant Nicholas James Gallaher could smell onion on the guard's breath, a familiar odor of the food line, and dampness and mold also, a stench which lingered heavily in the air as water dripped to a puddled floor. Far-off sounds echoed in his ears. Bandages pulled tightly against the skin beneath his charred and shredded uniform. His forehead stung with a steady pain. His eyes were uncovered and open, yet he perceived no vision except darkness. As his platoon fought to regain a foothold along the northwestern shoreline of the Korean peninsula, a shot rang out and then the enemy artillery began to fall. Gallaher urged his men to take cover and stumbled as he turned his body away from the impending assault. A mortar shell struck a nearby supply and ammunition depot. And then darkness.