Coldfire-Graphics

     The year is 1944. His boots are soaked and sandy, but he pounds heavily up the hard beach, splashing out of the waters that beckon him away from such rampant peril. Odors of saltwater, smoke, and blood overwhelm his nostrils. The world around him is so filled with thunder that his ears give up hope of discerning any meaningful sound. His legs desire to dash over the sand erupting all around him, but his rifle, pack, and sloshing boots dampen his body's efforts to a hasty stumble. His eyes are red and stinging as he strives to make out his platoon leader in the mayhem. The reassuring face soon greets him, but its