Write Bourne's account of the attack on Chapter 16 using his voice and capturing Manning's style and tone

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Write Bourne’s account of the attack on Chapter 16 using his voice and capturing Manning’s style and tone

 Ba-dom. Ba-dom  

 The drumming of the guns continued, tearing through all of my senses. There was so much intensity in the air surrounding us; you could’ve cut it with a knife. There was hardly a word spoken as the men were deep within their thoughts. Suddenly, someone further back jostled the man in front and sent everyone of balance. I cursed as I hit my neighbour.

 “Walk on your own fuckin’ feet an’ not mine!” someone shouted. A ripple of laughter spread through the men, but not me. I took a small drink of tea but it wasn’t warm. Nonetheless, it helped take the gummy dryness out of my mouth. I shivered slightly.

 It’s the cold, I thought. At least, that is what I’d like to believe.

 The mist came descending upon us and was everywhere, gripping us with its clammy hands. It condensed on our tin hats, the serge, our eyelashes; everything. Worst of all, it intensified the scent in the air, the scent of rottenness and the staleness of the men. Suddenly, there was an eruption and my shivering increased.

 It’s just the cold, I thought once more. The men became tenser. Some shivered. Others sobbed ever so slightly. In the end, we were all afraid. My eyes met with Shem’s, and an understanding seemed to come between us. I knew his thoughts, just as he knew mine. I next glanced in Martlow’s direction. The boy stood with his head bowed. Waves of pity and affection instantly spread through me in one instant, and was gone in the next. Martlow looked up; his lower lip quivered.

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 “Just stick it out,” said a voice behind me, almost pleading.

 “I don’t care a fuck,” came the bitter reply.

 “ Alright kid?” I managed to ask. Martlow merely gave a nod. I shifted my weight to the other foot and felt my knee tremble.

 It’s the cold.

 If only there was something to do. The worst part it was waiting. Doing nothing and waiting. At least, when I’d been preparing the ladders, my mind had been on the task. But now, there was nothing to do but wait. Waiting froze the mind, until the order to go shattered it ...

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