The squad leader was a Black Sergeant, the fastest to react, grabbing the M16 leaning against the wall and growling, "Not outside, inside! Next door!"
He made a gesture, and two soldiers immediately took up their guns to guard the entrance, while he led three others to suddenly smash open the wooden partition door on the verge of collapse.
The light from the oil lamp surged into this small compartment.
The scene inside froze everyone on the spot, blood seemed to instantly freeze.
Corporal Ryan Croft, usually a silent man who trained hard and always quietly helped rookies, sat slumped against the filthy wall at thirty years old, his eyes wide open staring blankly at the cobweb-covered ceiling, his face frozen in an expression of extreme pain mixed with relief and twisted.
His right hand still tightly gripped his pistol, the muzzle stuffed in his mouth.
