A brutal "death march" began.
Two hundred soldiers staggered over the scorching sand, carrying weights far beyond their current physical limits.
Heavy footsteps, rough breathing like a broken bellows, suppressed sobbing and painful groans replaced the previous silence.
The scorching sun mercilessly roasted them; each grain of sand felt like burning iron sand, scorching the soles of their feet.
Sweat dripped into their eyes, bringing stinging pain and blurring their vision. Their lungs hurt as if being torn apart, each breath carrying a bloody taste.
Time passed by the second. The penal team quickly spread out from the initial chaotic running.
People kept falling, struggling to climb back up, running a few steps before falling again.
Someone started vomiting, yellow-green bile mixed with undigested food debris splattering onto the hot sand.
