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David and Caleb were in a foxhole, explosions sounding all around them. They were trapped. Their target was not more than 50 feet away, well within range to shoot, but peering over the edge of the foxhole would mean risking their lives. While risking their lives was not of much concern to them, missing their target in the process was. There was an itch in David's mind every time another explosion would go off, and he'd give Caleb a once over to make sure he was okay.
"He's right there, Dave. What are you waiting for?"
"The fuck are you waiting for?" David emphasized with an inviting smirk.
"It's my ass if we miss. He's not even fucking moving!"
"If you hadn't used that last grenade-"
"If I hadn't used that last grenade we would have been Swiss fucking cheese right now. Jesus. Look, I'll cover you, just fucking get it done."
"I'm supposed to be covering you, asshole!" David began to panic.
"Fucking do it!"
Without another squabble, David popped over the edge of the foxhole and trained his sight on the target. Explosions still surrounded them, and David heard Caleb's gun popping in his ear, distracting the target. David aimed and fired, a bullet hit the target's knee cap, and he hit the ground. With another single shot, David shot the target in the head, incapacitating him permanently.
"I got him! I got him! ....Caleb?"
David turned around to see Caleb gripping his own shoulder, a pool of blood fast accumulating. He dropped quick to Caleb's side, pressing the sweat drenched and dirt covered bandanna he'd had shoved in his pocket onto the bleeding wound.
"Fuck, no." He whispered, pulling Caleb close to him.
It was only moments, but David didn't miss the explosions suddenly stopping, or the sun shining brighter than ever, nearly blinding him.
"Get them out of there." A voice boomed from the heavens, and without warning, David was being jerked away and up and out of the foxhole. He was removed so quickly that he almost didn't see three men in the foxhole, two with a stretcher, and another attending to Caleb's wounds.
"Fix him up and get him ready for tomorrow. No excuses. 0400 hours." The third man near Caleb said. It was the last thing David heard before he was thrown into his cell yet again, the speakers on the TV screens drowning out the sound of his fists banging on the iron door as he yelled until his throat closed up.