Daily writing no 2

I have just been trying to write something everyday. Have a read thanks!

The screeching of crows deafens the morning sunrise. A horrid landscape is bathed in the morning light. Scraggly, burnt-out trees emerge from the mud. The war is endless, and no one can remember its beginning. Simon, a man of slim build, places his silver cup on the camp burner. As he boils water to mix his last ration of coffee, he reflects on the many "lasts" he has witnessed: the last assault forward (supposedly), Garth taking his last breath when the rot had set in. He no longer wanted to see another "last," nor did he want to be one. Much like this war, he was stuck in an endless cycle of chaos.