They used to call us the White Knights, saviours in shining armor. Now, all the mud and blood and dents on our armor was clear to see, all the lies were the things we appeared to be.
I still see them in my dreams. It was a nightmare, a simple invasion gone wrong. We had only just begun the assault but they were ready for us. With an almighty explosion, several ships around us were gunned down; but that was only the beginning.
Damn-near twelve months of fighting, constant ambushes and sleeping, almost dead, in ditches. There were bodies everywhere, laying lifeless, almost as many as there were decaying trees. A hundred-thousand unmarked graves.
We were supposed to bring hope and a brighter future. All we brought were broken promises and a war to their doorstep.
It was twelve months, 365 days of struggling to find enough food and water to survive let alone fight. We found ourselves at a refugee camp another squadron had set up, holding out for hope of a rescue.
There were women and children, whom of which we had promised salvation. Supplies were prioritised to them.
All they wanted was freedom from the capitalist exploitation of their society.
We were supposed to help.
After dozens of dismal days of lying in wait, our superiors arrived but the first words I heard made my heart sink.
"Take it all with us" My commander said.
I begged him but...
"No" He said when they pleaded.
"This is your war now." He said as they slipped away, leaving hungry hands hodling onto the mud like it could spawn salvation. Good soldiers follow orders I thought. Good soldiers follow orders.