I opened my eyes to the whistle. It was early morning, the sun still touching the horizon in the east. I got dressed quickly and went to stand in my rank, waiting for today's orders. I glanced to each of my sides, where my comrades stood straight and emotionless. I knew why they looked so; I probably looked very similar. Yesterday we lost several good people, good fighters. They shouldn't have died. No one should be dying like this. I wished we could we could return to base and rest, or even better, be released from these bonds of crime and punishment; let the others fight their silly war without me. I sighed internally, too afraid to let it show on the outside. it was a hard life and showing weakness wasn't allowed. But it wasn't my kind of life. I didn't choose this life. It was forced into me again and again. I had no other choice but to follow its ways.
Our commander came then, walking with his black horse and dressed in a clean forest green jacket.
"Cheer up, my troops! We have fought well and hard, pushing back the forces that try to tear our society apart and ensue chaos. They have fled, too many of their own lost in the battles. So, it is with a special thanks to our general that we may return home and be rejoined with our full family of comrades," he spoke to us with a smile on his face, but his features were still strict with formality, his gait slow and intimidating. "Pack up. We head out within the hour."
This time I had to let my emotion show. I smiled. It was part of what I wanted, all things considered. We were moving back to General Monroe's militia headquarters away from the murder, or so it would seem.