While Danny was waiting, a short guy ran toward him along the trench.
"Captain, you're early." He panted, took the sack off his shoulder, and put it at Danny's feet. "Here's your ammunition."
"If I was hunting in the mountains, I'd have come back by this time already," Danny said carelessly. "How much ammunition for me?"
"30 bullets."
"So few..." Danny murmured. "Bloody machine gunner."
The short guy was the youngest soldier in the army, only 16 years old. His name was Malt. He came to "protect" Danny.
Every sharpshooter was paired with a protector so that when enemies drew close, they could quickly suppress the enemies and buy themselves time to run away or switch to bayonets.
