Marine
I guess I should have expected the letter, my dad being in world war 9 and all. Still, when it came, I was surprised and frightened. You see, I had heard about how the Korhal colonies were fighting against the loathsome Zerg and the despicable Protoss, but I, like everyone else, thought that it was something far away, that it would never come here. The UED government was going to try to send an expedition to the colonist's planets to help out and "show the flag", you could say. I was chosen to go on it. I had no skills, having been in deep depression since my family died. I guess that's another reason for it, because I had no family to speak of, they having all died in a crash while I was on my big homecoming trip. I had quit just about everything when that happened, and had been what most would call a burden to society. This was one of the main criteria that were used for the selection, although I didn't know that then. On the day of launch there was nearly everyone of that sector of Earth. Most of the people on the ships, like me had no one to care about and wish them goodbye. A few did, and I pitied those poor souls who were forced to leave there family, friends, - life behind for who knows how long. The ship launched with a resounding cry. My ears would ring for days to come with that sound. Once the ship left, the training began. I thought that kind of thing was illegal! We were fed gruel like substance that was filling as balls, but had no taste, or worse yet- a taste like tar. They had assigned us a drill sergeant which I am convinced they drug up from the darkest bowels of hell itself, as well. He had us running that mile-long ship daily! He would start us from the front, and if we didn't get to the mess hall (which was in the back of the ship) in time, we didn't eat. He called it "incentive". I called it torture. I got VERY hungry on several occasions. After that we got to us the guns. That was one part I enjoyed. Having no family or friends, I had to defend myself and hunt as well. The freaking guns aimed themselves though! I used to be able to field strip a rifle in 1 minute. It would take a week to take this thing apart, thought. I like the massive shell it fires, though. After training, we were put to sleep. This was so we would not understand or be active the years it would take to get to the colonies. I was just as glad, though. It meant that there would be no more gruel. SSSSHHHHTTT The door to the cyo-chamber opened, and I was plunged into wakefulness. "Rise and shine beauties, we're here" the sergeant bellows. I stumble around not nearly aware of what I'm doing. From what I can see, most of the people around me are the same way. We are shoved into the mess hall and fed a syrupy medicine, that if possible tastes even worse than the regular food. One thing it does do is wake you up, though. As I force it down my throat, I wonder what I am doing here, for the 50th time. "Let's go people; you maggots get to secure the beachhead! Aren't you lucky?" I cringed at the thought of it. Real Combat! This had been what we were training for, but I still was afraid. "Let's go people into the dropship!" As I climb aboard, I wonder if I will be one of the 75% of marines that die in their first combat.
I guess I should have expected the letter, my dad being in world war 9 and all. Still, when it came, I was surprised and frightened. You see, I had heard about how the Korhal colonies were fighting against the loathsome Zerg and the despicable Protoss, but I, like everyone else, thought that it was something far away, that it would never come here. The UED government was going to try to send an expedition to the colonist's planets to help out and "show the flag", you could say. I was chosen to go on it. I had no skills, having been in deep depression since my family died. I guess that's another reason for it, because I had no family to speak of, they having all died in a crash while I was on my big homecoming trip. I had quit just about everything when that happened, and had been what most would call a burden to society. This was one of the main criteria that were used for the selection, although I didn't know that then. On the day of launch there was nearly everyone of that sector of Earth. Most of the people on the ships, like me had no one to care about and wish them goodbye. A few did, and I pitied those poor souls who were forced to leave there family, friends, - life behind for who knows how long. The ship launched with a resounding cry. My ears would ring for days to come with that sound. Once the ship left, the training began. I thought that kind of thing was illegal! We were fed gruel like substance that was filling as balls, but had no taste, or worse yet- a taste like tar. They had assigned us a drill sergeant which I am convinced they drug up from the darkest bowels of hell itself, as well. He had us running that mile-long ship daily! He would start us from the front, and if we didn't get to the mess hall (which was in the back of the ship) in time, we didn't eat. He called it "incentive". I called it torture. I got VERY hungry on several occasions. After that we got to us the guns. That was one part I enjoyed. Having no family or friends, I had to defend myself and hunt as well. The freaking guns aimed themselves though! I used to be able to field strip a rifle in 1 minute. It would take a week to take this thing apart, thought. I like the massive shell it fires, though. After training, we were put to sleep. This was so we would not understand or be active the years it would take to get to the colonies. I was just as glad, though. It meant that there would be no more gruel. SSSSHHHHTTT The door to the cyo-chamber opened, and I was plunged into wakefulness. "Rise and shine beauties, we're here" the sergeant bellows. I stumble around not nearly aware of what I'm doing. From what I can see, most of the people around me are the same way. We are shoved into the mess hall and fed a syrupy medicine, that if possible tastes even worse than the regular food. One thing it does do is wake you up, though. As I force it down my throat, I wonder what I am doing here, for the 50th time. "Let's go people; you maggots get to secure the beachhead! Aren't you lucky?" I cringed at the thought of it. Real Combat! This had been what we were training for, but I still was afraid. "Let's go people into the dropship!" As I climb aboard, I wonder if I will be one of the 75% of marines that die in their first combat.