Bullshit really rough draft serving as a project

The lullaby of the current lazily rolled on in the still atmosphere. Bugs festered and latched onto exposed skin, the sky without a moon blanketed the area in darkness concealing the ploy that had been rehearsed in smaller scales many times. They chose to cross at a bend in the river between Ginestar and Benifallet to launch the assault. The first day’s method of travel included assault boats that carried men across the waters surface. The next way, pontoons were stashed which created a pathway for makeshift bridges that enabled men to clamor across the wooden surface and reach the other side of the river undetected.

 Amos was in the 11th division, lead by Commander Joaquim Rodríguez Lopez, consisting of the 1st, 9th and 100th mixed brigades. They were to be the spearhead of the Republican corps, the first to push an assault, the first to take casulties. There was a silent recognition amongst the unit, words that remained unspoken but lingered in the back of their minds. But they marched on with fire in their hearts, determined to fulfill their duties for their homeland. Even when the first bullets flew towards them, the screams and pleas of the wounded ripping through the air they carried on. When the skirmishes stopped, they were ordered to launch an attack on the town of  Móra d'Ebre. Being unsuccessful in taking the town, the plan shifted. They encompassed the town, leaving the Nationalists stranded. This wasn't permanent for after they were marched off once more after capturing the bridgehead.

“Hey Amos” a familiar voice called, making the male glance to his right. “Hello Antonio” he responded, ignoring the disfigurations of the others face. The scarred veteran tilted his head curiously, oddly resembling a puppy.  “So have you got any letters from your mother? How is your little brother?” Amos rolled his eyes appreciating Antonio’s concern, yet also annoyed with the repetitive questions. “I would've told you if I did, how about you?”

Antonio grinned an uplifting gesture. “Yeah. My wife is doing well. My kids are getting big! I can't wait to see them!” Amos gave his friend a warm smile happy the other had something to look forward to. If anyone he knew deserved to be happy it was Antonio. “Hey maybe I'll come with you and surprise them” he replied playfully, giving the other light shove. This elicited a response from the optimistic male.  “When the war is over amigo you can do whatever you want! I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

Antonio’s attention was caught by a wave from yet another officer. Ricardo Montes, a rather quiet individual motioned him over. Ricardo was quiet, but observant and always respectful. Amos didn't have a reason to dislike the man so he gave a slight wave to Ricardo and nodding to Antonio as a sign of departure. They continued to march a long distance, causing his knee to ache. There was a scar from long ago

They gazed up at the limestone chain of ridges in front of then with exhausted sighs. By order of their commander they climbed, some bruised and beaten up but they eventually made it. Amos saw Antonio flash him a smile from ahead and felt energy pour back into his limbs. They reached their point and met with the 46th regiment, setting up a perimeter around the Pandol mountainous range deciding not to go forth with an assault on Gandesa.

The Franco- offensive has started. It was hard to hear, ringing from the rifle and artillery shells going off all around. Amos had his gaze focused on shapes working up the rocky outcrop, aiming his mauser towards the enemy movement. He didn't know if he was hitting them, he didnt care. His mind hammered back any emotion threatening to arise to the surface. Emotions meant hesitation, hesitation meant death. He flinched as  bullets hit a rock near him. He ducked down, waiting for the brief period of reloading to start as he did the same. When it came the Spaniard peeked back over, aiming down and pulling the trigger once more. A light machine gun, hotchkiss model 1922 fired somewhere in the distance. Amos wasn't paying attention. He didn't hear the warning. He felt heat and suddenly he was rolling- falling down the limestone rockside. He stopped, eventually sitting there, vision swarming as red liquid leaked out of his left ear and head. His knee was once more as a twisted angle, throbbing but adrenaline numbed most of the pain. He held his head trying to focus and panic struck him. He desperately felt around for his rifle, his life line, the only thing that would stop him from- a silhouette looked over him. Amos’ head jerked up in surprise, being greeted with a familiar face. “Antonio” he breathed. “Relax,  going to get you to safety” the other male responded. “Take this” he responded handing Amos a 1892 Winchester lever action carbine. The injured male grabbed the gun, prepared to cover the other. Antonio starting drag the younger to a rock, no sign of movement in the line of vision.

Suddenly they jerked to a stop as an array of bullets erupted from a distance away . They needed to move so he tried to get his companions attention. “An-” he started before realizing Antonio’s grip had loosened. His savior collapsed hitting the ground, motionless, gone. “Toni” He called in disbelief, a hand on the others knee shaking him. He grunted, dragging himself to get a view of the others face. He quickly looked away feeling bile rise in his throat, the others head having a cartridge sized hole in it. “Toni your family they need you. You have to wake up” he tried looking around for help. Seeing no friendlies, his voice rose in a plea. “Medic!’ he called, hoping for someone to save them both. Antonio wasn’t dead, and he wasn't going to die either.  The Winchester was still in his hand as self defense, calling out once more. He scouted the area around him, hostiles apparently being held back by their remaining forces stationed around the area. He tried dragging himself and his fallen friend on their original route to the rock, hissing as his leg was jarred pain flaring throughout his body. He felt eyes on him and gripped into the metal weapon, glancing around. Another familiar face greeted him along with two others laying cover fire. “Let go of him Amos” Ricardo stated, trying to pry the wounded’s grip from the dead. “No! His family would want him saved” Amos argued. “He is dead trying to save you. Honor that sacrifice and let go”. Amos eventually released the other and was carried back up to safety.

There was a knock on the door and the footsteps from the other side as they went to answer it. When the door was opened a man stood using a cane to support himself. “Hello Amos” a teenager answered. “Hello Santiago” the former soldier greeted allowed to enter the house. “Are you here to tell another story?” Amos nodded “indeed. Let me just say this, the only reason I wasn’t marched to death was because of you fathers smile”.