Bekir wipes the rain from his sight. Beside him, Çetin checks the chamber of his rifle for the fourth time. No one speaks. In the mountains, silence is the only ally.
Bekir raises a fist. Squad freezes. Through the scope, he sees them—muzzle flashes like fireflies in the mist. Not friendlies.
It looks like you've provided a filename pattern rather than a request for a developed piece of writing.