I'd always told myself that people in war acted with a good amount of honor. I always thought that the US army was just and didn't hurt innocents or take people. I always thought that people respected others, even in war. I was very, very wrong.
It was twelve years ago, in 2019, when WWIII started, that I was drafted. I knew it was going to happen, but I didn't know when. The war had already been going on for three years, and millions had died already. I expected a spot behind the front lines, since I was only ninteen years old. But I got placed on the front lines.
I was part of a group of eight other men and six women who were to try to weaken the defenses around Britain, which was occupied by Germany and Russia. I knew it would be a hard mission, but I had to do it. The war was already favoring the commies at that point, so we had to do as much as we could to stop them. The Britan raid was necessary.
We were dropped on the outskirts of the country, and we were to make our way inward. It was a miracle we made it across the ocean, even though our jet was stealth. The terrain was rough, but we fared well, for a while.
We had been traveling for almost a month when things changed suddenly. Two men in our group had been killed, as had one woman. All three were killed in the same raid we had attempted. Unfortunately, those three were the senior officers. We were left without a command since ten days before the one month mark.
I was the next highest ranked officer by some fluke, since during training I was a good fighter and tactition. So they looked to me for command. I wasn't quite sure what to do, but I did know one thing -- there was a job to be done.
We noticed a little town on the map which, at the last report, was surrounded only by light German protection. It was decided we would attack it with our remaining eleven people.
It took two days to get there, and when we did, we coordinated our attack perfectly. The group was divided into four different sections, with three people in three sections, and myself and my newest friend, Sara, forming the fourth group. Each section had a part that they were to take over. I am still not sure as to exactly what happened with the other groups, but I do know what happened with us.
Sara and I creapt up on seven men who had a semi-automatic machine gun a piece. Guns blaring, we leapt up and shot as many as we could with the standard auto-rifles. We managed to kill four, but the other three were smart and ducked. Blood splattered all around.
We dropped back down and prepared for the retaliation, and it came quickly. The four men were heard just around our cover, and, luckily, we had clean shots at their legs. We shot each one three times in the leg, sending them all down. Quickly, we leapt up and shot them each in the head twice, killing them. And then, from behind a stone wall, bullets ripped out. The slammed into my shoulder, throwing me backwards. Blood skipped to my face and arms and I was propelled backwards into the dirt. Sara dropped down an instant later, by my side.