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Patience is a virture, crouching in the field.
Staring down iron sights, left eye is sealed.

Paciently waiting still crouching in the grass.
Up pops a head, A traget at last!

my breathing stops, my heartrate is light
anticipating the allies crossing my sight.

he runs up to the mortar, he wont come straight in.
I watch from the barbwire hiding my grin.

Then down he runs, thinking it clear.
I squeeze the trigger, my round thumps his ear.

The bunker now red, his body slides away.
Ive done my job, I keep them at bay.

Its always overcast, allies in the sand.
Its the endless battle of charlie, a.k.a strand