Amidst raining rubbish and lumps of earth, Wesley picked up side of the iron contraption, and just then, the whole trench began to chant together, "Trolle-borg, Trolle-borg", just like he heard on a football games. Inspired faces were visible everywhere, even if much dirty and dripping with sweat and blood.
“Ah, so this is their battle cry!” he guessed. And he correctly guessed, because after few more seconds everyone, including himself, still chanting, began to get out of the trenches and rushed forward through the forest past the crumpled and fallen trees towards the flashes of shots, roaring and rattle, and quickly jumped out into a vast clearing. Wesley, breathing hard, with shaking hands, helped his companion put the iron thing on a tripod and quite nearby saw enemies who ran towards them in the very determined state of mind. As in a dream, he saw close combat and helped to shoot from this iron thing, which with a terrible roar and stink spewing fire ahead, desperately hoping that his comrade knew his job and would shot only enemies in such a morass. And he was completely delighted when the enemies rushed to the heels, driven on by a dirty and shabby, but full of enthusiasm and decisively triumphant army all with the same cry. To his surprise, nearby he saw Naomi, she, having an extremely resolute look, dragging a bloodied man back into the trench.
At that very moment, a bright light flashed and the inscription lit up right in the air.
“Our ancestors won that battle. It was difficult for them, they shed a lot of blood of their own and that of the enemy, but they fought for our peaceful and happy life, knowing that they brought it closer with their sacrifices. Eternal glory to them! ”
There were still some words, but Wesley did not remember them anymore, he was in terrible shock, and found himself sitting next to Naomi in the lobby on a comfortable sofa and clutching some paper bag with an intricate coat of arms in the corner. There were two fresh postcards inside. On one Wesley, but suprisingly clad in uniform, dragging this piece of iron, and on the other Naomi, and also in the military uniform, inspiredly dragging the wounded.


“Keith, we really need you,” Wesley said in an almost non-trembling voice. “We want to know what this all means”.


















