The dirt road leading to the village shimmered in the heat.

[alpacinou]

Is this correct and natural?

The dirt road leading to the village shimmered in the June heat. A warm wind cut against John's face in the back of the truck as he stood up to gaze into the distance. This is it. I'm back in my childhood village. RATA TAT TAT TAT. The team scrambled out of the truck and ran in different directions like hens running from an intruder as the rumble of a machine gun brought John back to reality. Great. A warm welcome to home, he thought. John got off the truck and stood in the middle of the road, the mud sucking at his shoes. "Take cover John. Now!," shouted his friend. John stared at him for a few seconds and then his gaze drifted to the village. He started running towards it over the screams of his friends. "No, No, No—"

Out of breath, John stopped running, walking the last few yards towards the entrance of the village. Pile upon pile of rubble lay where John used to go to school. John felt his heart sink as he walked into the village, his childhood village. His favorite grocery store was nothing more than dirt and debris. To his right, a squat concrete building stood proudly, its walls riddled with bullet holes. The village was not trying to hide the scars of the war. He stood in the middle of it, his mind sliding back to his childhood playing soccer with his mates. The whoosh of a jet engine overhead brought John back to the present.

 

[Charlie Bernstein]

Is this correct and natural?

The dirt road leading to the village shimmered in the June heat. A warm wind cut against John's face in the back of the truck as he stood up to gaze into the distance. This is it. I'm back in my childhood village. RATA TAT TAT TAT. The team scrambled out of the truck and ran in different directions like hens running from an intruder as the rumble of a machine gun brought John back to reality. Great. A warm welcome to home, he thought. John got off the truck and stood in the middle of the road, the mud sucking at his shoes. "Take cover John. Now!," shouted his friend. John stared at him for a few seconds and then his gaze drifted to the village. He started running towards it over the screams of his friends. "No, No, No—"

Out of breath, John stopped running, walking the last few yards towards the entrance of the village. Pile upon pile of rubble lay where John used to go to school. John felt his heart sink as he walked into the village, his childhood village. His favorite grocery store was nothing more than dirt and debris. To his right, a squat concrete building stood proudly, its walls riddled with bullet holes. The village was not trying to hide the scars of the war. He stood in the middle of it, his mind sliding back to his childhood playing soccer with his mates. The whoosh of a jet engine overhead brought John back to the present.

Not bad!

One detail to think about: Can he really run if he's getting stuck in the mud? I can't. You might want to put a bit more thought into that part.