"Only the dead have seen the end of war"

-Plato

War is hell. That's what Corporal James Smith had discovered to be quite true during the past few weeks. Nod forces had attacked several times lately, attempting to re-take the beach and push GDI back into the water. Smith was just finishing breakfast when they attacked again. Klaxons blared as orders were shouted.

"Nod forces attacking! All personnel to your posts!" He threw his tray down, jumped up, and sprinted to his barracks to get his gear. GDI personnel ran every which way, some with weapons, some without. Smith dove to the ground as one of the upgraded Banshees flew overhead, strafing the soldiers below. Men and women were vaporized by the super-heated plasma shots.

After what seemed like an eternity (but was really only about 45 seconds) Smith made it to his barracks. He grabbed his rifle and some clips then ran for his post. The Banshee had been shot down by a SAM site, but was replaced with three more. Two Orca Interceptors flew overhead and engaged the 'Shees. The 'Shees turned and dove, did rolls and snap turns that would've easily shaken a fighter, but not the interceptor. The lead Orca fired its minigun and the bullets found their mark. Sparks flew along the hull of one of the Banshees, which soon exploded as the bullets found something critical. The fireball of molten metal slammed into the cliff nearby. The lead Orca was soon attacked by the surviving 'Shees. His wingman was successful in downing them both, but not until after one had gotten a shot off. The superheated plasma found its mark; the lead Orca's left engine exploded. Smith dove to the ground as it flew over his head and hit the ground, sliding to a stop some fifty yards away. Smith ran as fast as he could over to the wreckage to help the pilot.

There was no need to open the cockpit; the canopy had shattered. He grabbed the pilot and managed to undo the harness. He laid the pilot down on the ground and shouted for a medic. A medic soon arrived and started his work.

After a short run Smith arrived at his post. It was a standard bunker integrated into the base wall. He ran inside and was greeted by smoke. He shouted for the other person assigned to that bunker, Private Harper. Harper was unable to respond, as half of him was gone from the grenade that had found its way inside. Smith ran over to him, even though he knew that the man was very, very dead. He collected Harper's weapon, ammo, and dog tag, and then proceeded to the firing position. Smith was pissed, thoroughly pissed. Harper had been a good friend of his. He opened fire; didn't even aim, just hosed down the area in front of the bunker with pulse-rifle fire. He got lucky: the rounds found a target. A stealth trooper had been trying to sneak past the base's defenses and slip inside. He "flickered" as his suit was punctured with 7.62mm Armor-Piercing rounds. His scream was horrifically distorted by his mask as he fell to the ground.

Smith reloaded, and then squinted at the horizon to see several specks approaching. He switched to Harper's weapon: a standard-issue sniper rifle. He gazed down the scope and acquired the dots. He pressed a button on the weapon and various data appeared on the scope display. The advanced sight detected wind speed and direction. Smith adjusted his aim, held his breath, and then pulled the trigger. There was a satisfying crack as the round was ejected from the gun and flew downrange. Smith was rewarded with a red cloud and the figure dropping. He slowly scanned the horizon and found a pair of soldiers. One wore an officer's uniform, and the other wore a Black Hand Commander's uniform.

Which one should I take? Smith thought. Which one is more important? He trained the scope back and forth from figure to figure. In this moment he could easily end either's life. But he wouldn't be able to get a second shot off in time. He decided. Another crack as the round flew. Another red cloud, and the Black Hand Commander fell. Smith lucked out: the officer was too startled and too shocked to move. That cost him dearly. Yet another crack echoed through the bunker. The officer fell.

While he was looking down the scope searching for another target he failed to see the figure crawl up to the bunker, pull a fragmentation grenade from his belt, and remove the pin.

The grenade rolled into the bunker, landing with a loud tink on the concrete below. Smith didn't even have to look down to realize what had made the sound. He dropped the rifle and sprinted towards the bunker's door. Almost there, he thought. Just as he got to the doorway, a deafening BANG and a shudder erupted through the bunker. Smith felt a sharp pain in his back. He fell to the floor and blacked out when he hit...