I found this week’s flash fiction challenge from Chuck Wendig was much easier to write than last week’s. It was also ten times shorter!
“Charlie, how does a tanky end up with a blister?” The American sergeant jerked his thumb at the boxy tracked vehicle.
“Actually, sir, I’m with the Royal Artillery. Our Bishop is a self-propelled gun.” Charles Bradford winced as he pulled his boot back on.
“That’s swell.” The American said. “Now get back into your tank. Messina awaits!” The sweltering, damp heat hit Charles like a lorry as he stood and stepped away from the ivy-covered wall. Sicily in July was a far cry from Bedfordshire.
“No rest for the wicked.” He told his crew mates as their engine roared.