Squaddie

Dougie sprinted towards the front door, his kit bumping against his back, as the rest of the platoon dropped to one knee.

He pressed one side of his face to the wall listening for any sound inside the farmhouse before lifting the latch and putting a foot over the threshold, making sure his body was in half profile.

“Anyone here?” he shouted, his pulse throbbing against his neck. Footsteps slowly descended the stairs and an old woman appeared, her hands in the air. Dougie grinned with relief and lowered his rifle. Then he heard the click of a grenade pin.