War
The sound of velcro being adjusted, zippers being done up and weapons clanking together fills the crisp morning air. They are going into battle today and the heaviness of that fact effects them, hunching their shoulders and dragging down the corners of their mouths. Many of them won't come back, and those who do will be scarred, damaged goods, filled with the knowledge of what war truly is. That the only 'glory' is in surviving long enough to take out another enemy.
But it's worth it, they reason in their minds. Worth it to know that their children will be able to live in a time of relative peace. That this current enemy will fade into the past, a distant memory of times gone by.
But as they stand, shoulder to shoulder waiting to move out, they can't help but tremble a little, whisper goodbyes to friends and to loved ones only to be told "Don't be silly. We'll see each other after the battle." By people with strained smiles on their faces, who know in their hearts that the 'after the battle' is equally likely to be in the afterlife, as it is this one.
And when it is after the battle, and they have won, the survivors will sit around the campfires mourning lost friends and cursing the Shinobi world which took them.