Gods, the smell. If war had a smell, it would be the smell of sweat, the hot press of bodies packed close together, the noxious mix of piss and shit ...rom bowels voided in fear or in death, the subtle twang of hot blood torn from warm bodies, the stink of squished innards from torn bellies, the putrid taste of flesh rotting in the warm sun.The two lines disengaged as if on cue. Each side breathed a grateful sigh of relief and paused to catch their breath. Between them lay an undulating carpet. Sighing, and rubbing her eyes once more, she reached for the handle, and walked out of the bathroom, and straight to her room. She was ever so thankful it was Saturday. Julie looked over at her pink cell phone. Eager to hear the ring, and eager to see Megs name on the caller ID. She laid down on her bed, picking up pink device. She held the one button for a couple seconds, and then the speed-dial entered Megs number, and Julie smiled lightly. Julie? Meg questioned, curiously. Yes..can you. More

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