War in a soldier

     I stumbled and fell, my face slamming into the mud with a slap like the smacking of cynical lips. I tasted blood and grit in my mouth. My ears pounded from the from the noise of zipping bullets and pounding artillery. It's thunderous slams making it seem as if Ares himself had joined the battle. 'This isn't good', I thought to myself, pulling myself to my feet as I slung the mud and sand off of my face. I looked around, suddenly realizing that I was alone. Adrenaline spiked through my system, racing through my veins like searing hot electricity. Every sense heightened to the point where time seemed to become to be drudging along nonchalantly as a lone Wehrmacht soldier came sprinting around the corner of some poor bastard's home.
     In a panic, I began firing my weapon, the first two shots missed, flying off into the distance like it was their purpose, but the third one found it's mark. A loud clang sounded as a hole opened in the German's helmet, it sounded as if the man had simply been hit in the head with a skillet, and had merely fallen unconscious in a comical manner. But I knew this wasn't the case, and I knew he was dead, but I kept firing at his body, out of fear that by some vengeful god's power he would rise from death.
     The metallic clack of my gun resonated, telling me that I had run out of ammunition. Reaching into my pocket, I tried to pull another clip out of my pocket but only managed to drop it. My fingers felt numb, like useless nubs reduced to vestigial structures. I extend my hand, shaking, and pick it out of the mud. Wiping it off I slipped it into the rifle. With a soft click the cartridge was locked into place.
     The potential energy radiating from it like a feral beast locked in a cage for the very first time, but soon to be unleashed upon some unwary gladiator. I look at my gun, and I look at my hands, and I think of America. Then I think about Adolf, and the enemy. Who's fault is it that this man has met his end? Could it have been his own?
     Fire raged in my body, burning me up from the inside. I was dieing, being torched from inside my own body. Thoughts flaming like kindle before a mighty forest fire. I cannot think. And then cold steel presses to the back of my head. What wonderful ice, freezing me and my raging inferno. Quenching the flames inside of me, and turning them to quiet mumbles. I hear the words 'Sterben amerikanisch schaum'. Then,
Nothing.