Post 4

We received new fatigues today. The old ones were tattered and worn, a poor representation of our nation. The government sent them to us along with provions, in drop boxes they rained from the sky like gifs from the Heavens. In clean fatigues that look sharp and strong in the early morning darkness I know today will be big. As I sit in the back of the Hummer with my gun across my knees I realize that I’ve never missed clean clothes so much. They don’t smell, either or at least not for long, anyway… We’re heading out from where we’ve been for the past few weeks, following the enemy. I’m actually typing this out on my iPhone in the Hummer, the wonders of modern technology. Even in the middle of this godforsaken desert I can document to the rest of the world exactly how we feel in this moment.
The general is driving. It feels kind of weird to be going back to battle, though. Today specifically, I can’t help but think about what sparked this. It keeps replaying in my head. That day… It felt like someone took my brother from me. Before we left, I had a word with an old soothsayer here that’s been hanging around our camp and telling the other soldiers’ fortunes and stuff like that; he’s kind of the closest we’ve got to a chaplain right now. I asked if he would pray to the Almighty to protect me. He went all funny, started shaking a bit and closed his eyes and said that the death of my battalion is near and unavoidable. He called it Destiny. I call it bullshit. I mean, we know we could die here, but not until after each of us has given 110%. And besides, death isn’t the point, it’s what we will have accomplished that matters. Death does not scare us. It is the idea of something like what brought us into this war happening again that keeps us going. It is the thought of our loved ones not being safe in their own home that drives us to fight. We will face that army, and we will conquer them.