“the earthy coppery scent of fresh spurting blood mixed up with the acrid ARTY smoke mixed up with the blinding burning exhaust of the the tanks and whatever it is that billows from bombed-out buildings, and somehow, somehow, one knows not how, the good scent of earth rises up to mingle, too. But above it all rises the high-pitched smell of utter fear-shock and death-surprise....eventually giving way to the sickening smells of the ruins of war. Decaying bodies of human beings and animals, burning homes, rotting refuse. The pigs and the rats have a field day. For awhile. Then they too, succumb to rot and stench”
This is strangely poetic; like poetry from the 7th Circle of Hell.
This person, whoever he or she is, can write.