We deployed into a mountain range where the Raider camp was, in an abandoned military base. The tanks rolled into place and shut off their engines, keep the noise down in order to avoid being detected before desired. Bravo squad reported in, saying they thought we'd been detected. This was it. Go time.

A thundering rumble fills the air as tanks start their engines; the artillery gets their alignments set. The infantry begins to load their weapons and turn their radios on. Sergeant Kinman turns on his radio and loads his carbine, it was heavily modified; it had a red dot sight, a foregrip and an adjustable stock. Sergeant Masterson had a full-sized rifle, he kept the iron sights on it, but he had a grenade launcher attached to the bottom of the grip. High maintenance. Even for the Rubinelle.

Trent was the gunner for the group. He had a .223 caliber automatic light machine gun with an adjustable stock. Fed from a linked belt, and had an improved iron sight. Ulrick was the sniper, but when we were in large-scale battles such as this, snipers weren't necessary, so he had a full-sized rifle like Masterson, only it had an improved magnification scope attached to the top.

I took a magazine from my vest and slid it into my weapon. It was smooth, and made a very satisfying sound as it slid. The sounds of the other infantry loading their rifles and pistols filled the air. Nobody spoke. We awaited orders. I cleared the action on my handgun, and locked it open. I grabbed another mag from my vest, for the handgun and slid it into the opening on the grip of the gun. I undid the lock, and it produced a loud slam as the action closed. I stuck it back into my holster, and I spun my carbine under my left arm so it was against my back.

It happened so suddenly. Kinman's radio went off, it was the sergeant of Bravo Squad, who was the last surviving member of the team. The Raiders knew we were there. Go time.

"Victor Squad, you've got an infantry unit to the northeast, move in to engage," Lieutenant Lin calls over radio. Sergeant Kinman nods at us and we move. I pull my rifle up to my right shoulder and point it downward. We move northeast and find a squad of Raider infantry. We take cover behind some rocks and begin firing. They go down without any problem.

Upon another command to move to the next mountain, we settled down for a few hours. There was little to do during that time, but all that changed.

Sergeant Masterson looked around, surprisingly calmly, after a bullet whizzed past his

armored head. Everyone immediately ducked behind cover and the firefight ensued.

Trent set out a heavy blanket of suppressing fire to keep the Raiders down. The rest of us took our shots from behind cover, taking out the enemies stupid enough to dive out of cover. Most of them were neutralized by Masterson or Ulrick; Kinman and I were more equipped for forward offensives, not cover-based defensives.

I thought I was covered well, until I felt a pair of bullets glance off of my helmet with a sharp ping. I quickly snapped straight and after about thirty seconds of wondering what it would be like if those bullets had hit their target, I was shaken from my stupor by the wide "thunk" of Masterson's attached grenade launcher, followed by the final shouts of two Raiders caught in the blast of shrapnel.

I peeked out from behind the tree I used for cover and spotted a Raider pulling the pin on a grenade. I took the shot, after shouting a warning to my squadmates. The man fell, and his companion grabbed the grenade.

He didn't throw it in time.

I think I met him once.

Not that I could tell what he looked like anymore.

After a few seconds of fearful gritting of my teeth in cover, I shook my head and turned around out of cover and took several more shots of suppressing fire before the final Raider taking cover poked his head out at the least opportune time. It was done. My mind was in shambles, but it was done.

Hotel Squad moved in about half a mile west of us, down the mountain. We could see them moving in, looking for a vantage point over advancing enemy armor. They sat there for nearly fifteen minutes before we heard thunder in the distance. It was foggy, sure, but it wasn't stormy weather.

Unless-

Kinman shouted something I couldn't understand but I knew what it meant. We ducked behind cover and made ourselves as compact as possible. I counted to twenty, like they taught us to in the Academy, to make sure that the shells weren't coming your way before emerging from cover.

But the shells weren't meant for us.

The mech squad, Hotel, wasn't as quick on the uptake as we were, poor bastards. It was they who got the full force of the barrage. We hit the ground again immediately after shells started hitting, but I couldn't take my eyes off of them. Bad idea.

I saw an arm fly, still clutching its weapon, burnt to a crisp and nearly obliterated by the shrapnel that hit it. The remaining eight members of the squad hit the ground running, but they were too slow. The third shell hit, and sent pieces of the squad's NCO through the air, accompanied by various parts of other squad members.

Fourth shell had one victim. Completely shattered the gal. Don't think I saw anything left of her larger than three inches.

I think the first shell hit the man right in the head.

This wasn't like anything we saw in the Raiders. We hadn't faced enemy artillery before, all we did was intimidate unarmed civilians and sometimes shoot them; we hadn't blown people up before!

In the Academy, well, it was different. They showed us the bloodiest war films to desensitize us, but damn, it just doesn't compare to the real thing! I could describe fifteen different times I saw a guy on TV getting blasted to bits by a landmine, or coming face-to-face with a hollow-point bullet, or even saying goodbyes as a roundshot cannonball ripped his torso apart. But this is the first time I could tell you I saw the things I saw today, in real life.

I dived behind a stray boulder, but it wasn't long before trouble met me once again. A small black sphere landed next to me. "Gren-" I shouted, before it went off and slammed into my body like a charging rhinoceros.

Everything was white for a long time, and I didn't hear anything besides a small swell that sounded remotely like a voice shouting every once in a while. It was later I found myself waking up. I was moving.

I looked to my left. I saw there Sergeant Kinman, who was looking forward through the gap between his dust wrap and his helmet. I looked then to my right, and saw Trent, with his behemoth of a gun secured on his back. They each had one shoulder underneath an arm, left and right, respectively. I looked forward to find Masterson taking point as we moved. I couldn't see Ulrick, but the sound of footsteps indicated he was behind me.

I mumbled what sounded sort of like words when Trent took notice. "Sergeant, he's waking up," he said, alerting Kinman to my status at the time.

"What happened?" I asked, still dazed and disoriented.

"You're alright, kid, don't worry," Trent explained. "Concussion grenade got you. We checked for broken bones before we mounted up, nothing bad, just a few bruises. Command said the Raiders bit the dust, so we're headed back to base. Wouldn't leave you behind."

Kinman got right to business, despite wielding a voice that indicated he cared about my well-being. Something tells me the soldier I replaced made such impact on him. "Can you walk?"

"I-" I groaned. Everything hurt. Those broken ribs were really killing me now. But I wasn't going to hold back the squad. "I think so."

Kinman nodded to Trent. "Keep him steady." Trent nodded and as Kinman let go he offered more words ensuring me that he would, indeed, keep me steady.

We were ordered to retreat after the battle had ended. The tankers would tell us we didn't see any action. That may be true, but I saw some shit that day.

The Raider Camp had fallen, but we lost man upon man in that mission, and it was an empty victory for the footsoldiers. I didn't expect the Lieutenant or Will to share in that sentiment. They didn't see what it was like.

While the officer staff was celebrating over drinks, Victor Squad was silent for dinner.

The next morning I rose. The images from yesterday had plagued my dreams and made for a night of broken sleep, but by the time I awoke, most of them were gone, and I had the ability to speak again. When I woke, the rest of the guys were up, suiting up for a day of patrols.

We ate our cold, ready-to-eat breakfast from a can and attended flags. It wasn't as moving as it was yesterday. I hadn't lost my pride, I just found myself a little numb inside watching the red flag rise up to the top of the mobile pole in camp and listened to that shitty bugler play his little fanfare. It just hit me when I heard the tune again just how badly that musician played it. It was a disgrace really. Never picked up a bugle in my life, I could probably play better than him.

Victor Squad was immediately dispatched to the south camp perimeter on patrol. We had to make sure that no Raiders remained.

We passed up many deformed and mangled corpses. You could tell some were from the battle, but others were older. We assumed that the dry skeletons were what remained of the people who died when the meteors first came. The ones in varying states of decay were the remains of people who starved to death or fell victim to the Raiders. Most of our trip was through the woods, but our ventures led us to the ruins of a fallen town. We all groaned, for that meant we had to search every little building in the village. Perfect.

I was tasked with the homes in the luckily small residential district. I maneuvered swiftly through the buildings, checking every room. I simply ran into scrap, mostly. Pieces of paper, splinters, rubble. But I heard something. Sounded like… coughing.

I put my finger on the trigger. I needed to be ready if it were something hostile. I slowly step over to the pile of rubble that the noise came from. I extended my foot and kicked the rocks on top away.

Underneath was a face.

A living one.

Female. My age. Dirty. Dangerous.

"Get up!" I shouted. "Show me your hands!" She climbed out of the dirt and obeyed, while having a massive coughing fit. I yelled out the window. "Backup!"

In a few moments, the rest of my squad stormed the room with their guns in the air.

"Damn it, Stormdog," said Masterson. "You just had to ruin my day. Now we've got to kill her."

"What the hell are you smoking Masterson?" Ulrick chimed in. "Just kill her? Out of the blue?"

"Too many mouths to feed, Ul," the squad's lieutenant explained. "You know Brenner would take rations from one of us to give to this one without a second glance. I don't want you guys to starve."

Kinman was characteristically silent. He allowed his men to sort their differences.

"Okay, but really, Masterson? Murder?" Ulrick argued. "You'd murder an innocent civilian just to keep a small fraction of your rations?"

"It's a new world, Corporal," Sergeant Masterson cryptically ended.

Trent offered a new means of looking at it. "Hey, fuckbrains," he chided. "SD found him, let's let him decide, huh?" He turned to Stormdog. "What will it be? Take her or leave her?"

I was taught practicality in the Academy. Taught to follow orders and never question. I was taught when I had to, to make decisions quickly and with no remorse. Yet, I couldn't help but feel remorseful when I chose to take her.

"Sergeant Masterson," I explained. "I promise, I'll let you have some of my rations."

Masterson kept his cold and unfeeling face straight. "I don't want your rations. I want you to keep your rations. Which is why we can't take her."

"We can't leave her either. She comes," I said, turning to leave. The rest of the squad took to the roads before me, but I noticed the girl wasn't coming.

"Come on," I said.

She shook her head "no."

I groaned as I punched her in the face to knock her out. I dragged her back to base with the rest of the guys.

Brenner put her up in the barracks with the other civvies. We heard nothing of her for the rest of the night.

That Fairhaven mayor refused to take the civilians. Just my luck. Anyone could see what was happening.

Brenner was taking Will under his wing. You know what that means. Sooner or later, somewhere down the road, he's gonna get a degree of power. Call me paranoid, but I can see nepotism when it's there. Call it… intuition.

I'm infantry. I shoot where the commanders say. To him, I'm just another body to hurl at the enemy. I'd abandon, but although I've made a habit of fleeing, I've never liked the idea of being a deserter.

One day, somehow, I'm going to end up taking orders from that factory-farmed, brown-nosing fuckwad.