A last entry into a soldier's journal during a near future WW3.
| "The date is July 21, 2019. My name is Sgt. Warren. I am(was) a member of the U.S. & Allied 117 Regiment. It has been exactly two years and 12 days since the beginning of the war. No one knows how the war began or if their was ever an honest purpose to it. All I know is that on the day of July 9, 2017 America entered a 'free for all' war against China, Allied Europe and the Arabian Confederation. In those two years we have experienced countless casualties on both sides. Squads and battalions have increased in number 10 fold compared to what they used to be, and only to better organize the mass armies which have fought here in the Middle East, the world's battlefield.
My life seems short now that I look at it, already my hair is going grey, and I don't even have anything to die protecting. . . . I used to but . . . I failed. My life actually seemed pretty nice in the beginning. I was born into a loving family and no one ever saw reason to fight with me, in High School I was the teams leading linebacker, and in school I fell in love. But life isn't kind to those who are weak, I learned that the hard way. When I got out of High School and then College, married my school sweetheart, I found out the truth about life. The truth was that men like me, men who are honest and hardworking don't make shit in life. Only now do I see how naive and protected I was, and only then and now do I know the truth about life. The truth that republicans and bureaucrats, men who are corrupt with money and power, are the ones who make the world go round. The ones who make life unfair and desolate for people like me. Men, who in their eyes, are only fit for being soldiers, dying in wars that benefit them and them alone. Well I'm tired of it. I've been tired since the beginning, since I found out how bad the world is. Since my world was thrown into chaos by people corrupted by their ignorance. Since the time that my wife and child were killed by some 'gang' of who ever they were. I didn't care, not when they killed them and especially not when I was curb stomping one the bastards head in. That's why I'm here, because I killed the bastards who murdered my wife and child. Those corrupt in the military saw murderers like me as the perfect soldiers. So I was drafted and put in commanding position over a squad of 39 men, 'the violent ones make the best leaders' is what some colonel said.
I didn't want to fight, I had already killed enough, but I couldn't die without cause. So I fought and I led my squad in countless engagements, in Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Syria and even Turkey. But the Turkey was the worst, it was at the battle over Taşköprü that I . . . lost everything. We and thousands of others were fighting against a large army of A.C. and the ancient bridge become an invaluable choke point. We were ordered to attack in any way necessary in order to win the battle. Without a doubt we won, but . . . every last one of my men lay dead that day, ripped apart by gunfire. It was when loyal soldiers were made into canon fodder that my soul seemed to choke. And now we're in Iraq, of all places, fighting this seemingly unending war of exterminating the A.C. military. . . . I don't know what I'll do tomorrow. The thought of going AWOL seems nice, picture it now: middle of the battle I turn and just kill every single last thing in my sight. I could do it, start a literal blood fest and leaving everything dead. Go back kill corruption, cut it from the source and end this war.
(Sigh)I salvaged my men's tags. . . I still have them . . .