The sound of gunfire fills the air.
A German soldier with a white armband walks through the crowded and dirty trenches, the wooden planks covering the bottom of the trenches creaking as he stepped on them.
The white armband has a red cross on it, the man is a medic.
The medic also has a small leather pouch strapped to his waist.
He has his carbine holstered over his shoulder, bouncing up and down and making some metal clanks as he walked.
The carbine was well-cared for, it was in superb condition compared to the other soldier's rifles.
The man's eyes suddenly shoot open as he hears a loud scream coming from behind him, he quickly turns around.
A man clutching his shoulder in pain as blood poured from the open wound, sitting against the walls of the trench.
The other soldiers walked past him, presumably ignoring him.
One rifleman crouches down next to the wounded man as he continues screaming, begging for someone to help him and gasping for air.
The medic runs over to the two, throwing his carbine into the mud below.
The medic reaches into his pouch and pulls out a relatively crude bandaid.
He crouches and tries to wrap the bandaid around the wounded man's shoulder.
As he continues trying to help the wounded man, the loud gunfire is pierced by shouting.
One rifleman peeks out of the trench and points at something beyond No man's land.
The medic finishes wrapping the bandaid around the man's shoulder and walks over to the other side of the trench.
He scales one of the crudely made wooden ladders and carefully peeks out of the trench.
At first he can't spot anything unusual, but after staring off into no man's land, he notices something, something large.
It looks like some kind of bunker, boxy in shape, with two smaller boxes welded to the large part of the machine.
It's hard to make out what it exactly was at this range.
A machine gunner nearby, stationed in a small bunker, notices the machine and turns his weapon over it, before showering two dozen or so shots at it.
The riflemen watching from the trenches gasp in horror as all the bullets shot at it merely bounce off, leaving the machine unscathed.
Panic starts to grow in the trenches.
An artillery squad, far behind the frontline, notices the lumbering beast.
The artillery officer, wearing a small cap, looks at the machine through a pair of binoculars in utter confusion.
He holsters the binoculars and raises his hand, before ordering the artillerymen to load and aim.
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