A deep, train-whistle-like moan swept over his head, and Private Thomas Lafayette curled up into a ball, eyes tightly shut, mouth wide open, clutching the long flintlock rifle in his arms as if it were the only support in the world. A second later, amidst a thunderous roar, the entire world trembled.
"Almighty Creator, your power is immense and your mercy boundless; I beseech you to forgive my sins and protect me from my enemies' harm..."
Devout prayers emerged from the nearby bomb shelter, their rapid pace and high-decibel quavering indicative of the worshiper's critical mental state. Perhaps it was resonance, or maybe it was the only thing everyone could do, but more and more voices joined.
