When the roar of an engine fades with your voice

So meaningless

The five men section, not including the tank crewmen, decided that the best way to clear the machine gun nest to keep moving was to provide covering fire to the fastest man in their team to run up into the enemy position and throw in a grenade.
-"Alright Thomas, you will go."-
Private Thomas, the one who tried to give his german pistol to sergeant Smith minutes ago, buckled his helmet straps, took out a hand-grenade and pulled out its pin. He handed his rifle to a soldier next to him and leaned against the corner wall that led to the street he would be running.
He made eye contact with the corporal, who looked at him and nodded:
-"We'll begin firing..."- he said and looked back at his section. -"Now!"-
The order fell heavily upon the private. He jumped into the street, slipped and fell, but used the speed he had obtained from the initial jump to roll sideways and immediately stand back up.
The rest of the men peeked out of their hideouts and began firing at the MG nest located about two hundred and fifty meters away. Jefferson was the only one in the section to have a fully automatic weapon and tried give it the best use he had given it since bootcamp. The soldier had little to no experience with shooting, and his gun danced up and down, left and right, spraying bullets into random places. 
-"Jefferson, control your bursts!"- ordered Smith, seeing how Jefferson's bullets flew dangerously close to Thomas.
The private was able to reach the german position before the effect of suppression his comrades were putting on them ended. He threw the grenade as if it was a hot potato and dropped to the ground.
The explosion happened a few seconds later and sent the german soldiers flying into the air and fall back to the ground in twisted positions.
-"Let's go now!"- ordered the corporal to his men.
They all cheered Thomas and quickly ran through the messy streets and dug into their new positions.
-"Couple more pushes like that and it will be over soon!"- exclaimed the soldier who was carrying two rifles, one of which was private Thomas'. He didn't forget giving it back.
Everything was going relatively smoothly, but sergeant Smith was unable to keep away an upsetting thought inside her mind:
Where were Davidson and Addams?

Davidson was slowly coming back from the blow to his head. He opened his eyes and saw Addams dragging him somewhere. He was still unable to hear much or understand what was happening, but knew that Addams was injured and that he shouldn't be making such big efforts to pull a full-grown man by himself.
-"Addams?"- he tried to talk, but all he was able to do was to split apart his lips that were glued together with the dried blood that had flowed from his head.
When he was finally able to talk, Addams had just stopped dragging him. The private settled down into a more comfortable position and worryingly looked at the lieutenant.
He noticed that the lieutenant was conscious again.
-"Are you alright?"- he asked.
-"I am fine..."- Davidson responded and raised his head a bit, but felt as if the ground beneath him sank like a tent wall. He heard a loud thud inside his head and realized he had fallen back. He gave up trying to stand upright and resorted to trust Addams to tell him everything.
-"For how long have I been unconscious?"-
-"I am not sure sir, but I'd say...five... maybe ten minutes?"-
-"And why did you drag me here?"-
-"Because I thought that the crater wasn't safe enough"-
-"How far dig you drag me?"-
Addams briefly lifted his shoulders, implying that he didn't know how much he had moved.
-"At least do you know in which direction?"-
Addams gave the same answer as before. That meant that they could be closer to the enemy than to the friendly forces.
Davidson sighed, they were supposed to be returning to the rally point. Now they could be captured and stay in a prisoner camp for the rest of the war.
The best thing they could in their current situation as two injured tank crewmen, was to stay hidden until the end of the battle. Luck would decide who would find them: a german of american?
-"Sir?"- asked Addams.
-"Yes?"-
-"Are you afraid?"- he asked, scared by the possibility of being captured by the enemy.
-"Not too much..."- he responded, trying not to worry too much. -"Where were you injured?"- he asked back, wishing to drive his attention away from a fearful possibility.
-"Right here"- he said, pointing on a little metal piece sticking out of his left thigh.
It wasn't the first time Davidson had seen such wounds, but every time he saw one of those, he would inevitably panic and forget what to do.
He coughed a bit. Then said doubtfully:
-"Better keep it stuck... I am not too sure though... I don't know, do as you please"-
-"A lieutenant who doesn't know about first aid..."- Addams made fun of Davidson.
-"Do you?"-
Davidson rolled to his right, ending up face down against the road. With both of his arms, he slowly pushed his upper body and made room for his knees to squeeze into the space. With his legs firmly placed on the road, he raised his neck to carefully look around.
Addams had dragged them away from their destroyed tank and into a parallel pair of sandbag walls placed perpendicularly against a wall on the right side of the road. It did seem quite a safe place to wait for the battle to end.
-"Can you see where we are?"-
-"You did drag us far away from the friendly lines"-
Addams had a troubled look. If they were to be captured, all the responsibility would fall on him.
-"Don't worry, it seems like our boys are making a great push right now"-
The fact that they were winning didn't seem to raise the private's mood.
Davidson decided to share him his precious cigarettes for this special occasion. He took out the small package from his pocket on his upper left chest.
-"Would you like to?"- he asked, offering him a single white rod out of the small box.
-"I guess I'll give it a try"- he said, and grabbed the single rod sticking out of the bunch.
-"I'll light it up for you"-
The lieutenant leaned closer to Addams and placed the fire of his box lighter right underneath his cigarette. The paper roll slowly lit and Davidson removed the fire from it.
-"What do I do now?"- asked Addams pointing at the lit cigarette.
Davidson shaped his fingers as if he was holding one, and put it on his mouth. He exaggeratedly inhaled air, then dropped his hand and exhaled.
Addams imitated him. He took a big breath from the cigarette.
"Oh, that was a very big breath..." thought Davidson
Addams' eyes widened in surprise and began coughing, but because he kept the cigarette on his lips, he ended up making funny sounds with his mouth each time he coughed.
-"Go on easily Addams, there is no hurry"- the lieutenant chuckled.