Private Derek Marshal slogged through the muddy graveyard, the remnants of a former conflict all around him. Gutted Marines cleared killed by Energy swords lay sprawled all over the place, and a flipped warthog still had it's dead gunner strapped in. Scorpions, ATVs, even a Pelican or two littered the dusty red hell Derek had to pass before reaching the new UNSC base.
Finally, he passed the UNSC former front lines and started towards the Covenant side. Bits of Grunt lay everywhere, since the little barking bipeds had been used to clear the human minefield. A headless jackal, blood still flowing from it's aorta, lay half-in half-out of the wreck of a Spectre. Hunter armor lay discarded like rubbish, and in the covenant command bunker, a golden elite lay across a brain drenched table, sniper shell lodged in it's head.
This parade of the damned continued across the rainbow-drenched field, until Derek could see the steel walls of the picket base, rising like a dull gray obelisk through the mist.
Two hours later, Derek reached the gates of the UNSC base, and never spoke of that time in hell again.