Semper Fidelis (367 Words)

The air is thick with smoke, bodies and carnage scattered as far as the eye can see.

I never signed up for this, I was fresh out of college and the world was my oyster. I was suckered in with tales of brotherhood and bravado.

Training was minimal, a quick turn around for cannon fodder like us is required and willing volunteers are queued around the block.

The other guys in my squad, they all want this, all knew what they had got themselves in for. Second and third generation army brats. Kids who haven't long started shaving bragging about how they want to get out there and kill them some gooks, ragheads, commies, krauts, japs, insert racial slur of choice here.

I don't share their blood lust, all I have is fear.

Fear of dying in this god forsaken hell hole.

So if it comes down to them or me, its no choice as far as I can figure it, my only job is to look after number one and come back alive and in one piece.

Intel said they were hiding, something or someone in the village. I didn't care who or what it was all I know is  we marched in with the sole intention of getting it. 

We searched a few huts, found nothing or no one.

Then it all just goes crazy, Collins doesn't check his corners and gets himself tagged. It's careless but I hope he felt nothing, its the least he deserves, he was a good soldier.

People on both sides start screaming, shouting nonsensical orders. I just open up with everything I have, shooting anything that moves as far as I'm concerned the time for sides has long gone.

My heart is thundering in my ears, I don't even register the click, click, click signalling a long empty rifle. What I do register is a sudden stinging thud, thud, thud.

Two in the chest and one in head. Claret is dripping down over my goggles, I've been hit.

Game over.

Someone picks me up by the scruff of my neck and says "You're dead Morgan now go wait in the portacabin, its capture the flag next."

Paintballing is hell.

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