Lost Son of War
"his priorities were wrong"
Time: 23:15
Date: 13/11/30
Position: On Field
Subject of Message: Update on position
"Briefing is commencing. Lads aren't to communicate with the enemy – CC15 let wind of new tactic of their side. Any vulnerability from team will be defeated. This is war, feelings aren't welcome."
…
Time: 23:50
"Back to base – Soldier Sheers succumbed to the new tactic. Alert wife and mother as per request. New warning to all teams: Children are not to be approached. I repeat: Children are not to be approached."
-
Soldier Patrick Sheers listened to the briefing vigorously. The other side were playing dirty, their tactics were growing increasingly more challenging and their attacks were steadily getting closer to camp. Neutralising the threat was the top priority – gutting the leader and hanging him by his fucking intestines was the next priority. Ninety percent of the team believed they'd find him and make him pay, no matter how many men they lost in the process. Sheers was one of them. After all, who wouldn't want to gut the bastard who'd used the cover of night to rape and slaughtered their brave battlefield nurses?
There was something in the importance of this task that had made boys as young as fourteen willingly join up for the war, despite the fact that it had been officially raised to the age limit of 18 in 2020. There was nothing the government could do about it – they were facing problems of their own as revolts were taking place all over the country to rid parliament of its power – and the older generations refused to get involved in the war as it was nothing to do with them. In truth, it was nothing to do with any of them but it was more to do with the country itself. They were slowly taking back the world, one country at a time. It was time to cleanse the world and reduce the population, but of course not many of the men in the war knew that. In fact, the ones in charge of the troops didn't even know it, either. It was only the ones who instigated the war, the ones who spent year upon year mapping how how they would go about it and what they would have to do and sacrifice along the way, who knew about the real reason behind the war. There's nothing like blind-sighting the ones who have the means to destroy your plan in less than five minutes.
Sheers was at that stage in his life where he believed that he could solve everything by himself, a normal rite for a seventeen year old man who had a wife in this day and age. Instead of the immaturity that used to plague the men of his age, a new era had dawned with the war and it was for the better. They all believed they were fighting for the better, fighting for the new, so who would dare tell them that maybe it wasn't for the better?
After the briefing, the troops set out, marching across the land and seeking out targets. His first kill sent a wave of euphoria through him, making him feel proud for serving his country even though his parents tried to tell him not to go. His wife, the beauty Rebecca Sheers, had encouraged him, lathered him with love and adoration when he talked about going to war, and when it was time for him to be deployed, she cried with happiness. He decided to mention the first act he did for his side in the letter he was currently writing to her. It was a pact between the both of them that they had to write letters to each other but save them instead of sending them, and when they were reunited then they'd give the other their letters to them. Of course, no thought crossed their minds that they might be reunited through a casket.
A command was shouted and the men branched out, separating to cover more ground. Several others entered the village that Sheers found, breaking into the houses and searching for the enemy. Seeing that the houses were covered well enough, he went deeper into the village and towards the town centre. Keeping watch on both his left and right side, he crouched slightly and made his way towards the building directly ahead of him. Pushing the door open with his boot, he pointed his gun in first before stepping into the open area. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he progressed further into the building. Anyone he came across who wasn't on his team he'd been given orders to shoot first, ask questions later if they happened to survive. Most of them wouldn't survive because they were trained to shoot to kill.
As he went to turn down a hallway there was noise behind him and he spun around and aimed his gun, his finger about to squeeze the trigger. He stopped when he saw who it was, his finger slacking before dropping from the trigger altogether. A little girl was standing in the middle of the entrance area he'd just been in. She looked malnourished and dirty, her hair clumped together with mud and her face scraped and brown in places. She had no shoes on and just a little rag dress on. Sheers lowered his gun slowly and took a step forward. He believed she was a victim of war, a defenceless little girl whose parents had either deserted her or been slaughtered by his troops. War was no place for a child, except if they willingly choose to join up at the age of fourteen. Boys used to be classed as children at that age, and some people still try and convince them that they're children, but for the majority they feel like a man and enrol for a man's job.
The girl shuffled a bit and became unsteady on her legs before she righted herself. His training became distorted in his mind and instead of viewing her as the enemy, he just saw the little girl. No threat, no reason to neutralise. The words of his sergeant ran through his mind, warning him of keeping one view that he had to stand by no matter what. That view was of their side winning and eliminating the enemy – not saving those who they believed to be innocent victims of war. But he ignored what'd been drilled into him and crouched down onto one knee and placed his gun to one side, disarming himself and briefly taking his eyes off of the little girl for a second.
It only takes a second to lose a man to war.
Date: 13/11/30
Position: On Field
Subject of Message: Update on position
"Briefing is commencing. Lads aren't to communicate with the enemy – CC15 let wind of new tactic of their side. Any vulnerability from team will be defeated. This is war, feelings aren't welcome."
…
Time: 23:50
"Back to base – Soldier Sheers succumbed to the new tactic. Alert wife and mother as per request. New warning to all teams: Children are not to be approached. I repeat: Children are not to be approached."
-
Soldier Patrick Sheers listened to the briefing vigorously. The other side were playing dirty, their tactics were growing increasingly more challenging and their attacks were steadily getting closer to camp. Neutralising the threat was the top priority – gutting the leader and hanging him by his fucking intestines was the next priority. Ninety percent of the team believed they'd find him and make him pay, no matter how many men they lost in the process. Sheers was one of them. After all, who wouldn't want to gut the bastard who'd used the cover of night to rape and slaughtered their brave battlefield nurses?
There was something in the importance of this task that had made boys as young as fourteen willingly join up for the war, despite the fact that it had been officially raised to the age limit of 18 in 2020. There was nothing the government could do about it – they were facing problems of their own as revolts were taking place all over the country to rid parliament of its power – and the older generations refused to get involved in the war as it was nothing to do with them. In truth, it was nothing to do with any of them but it was more to do with the country itself. They were slowly taking back the world, one country at a time. It was time to cleanse the world and reduce the population, but of course not many of the men in the war knew that. In fact, the ones in charge of the troops didn't even know it, either. It was only the ones who instigated the war, the ones who spent year upon year mapping how how they would go about it and what they would have to do and sacrifice along the way, who knew about the real reason behind the war. There's nothing like blind-sighting the ones who have the means to destroy your plan in less than five minutes.
Sheers was at that stage in his life where he believed that he could solve everything by himself, a normal rite for a seventeen year old man who had a wife in this day and age. Instead of the immaturity that used to plague the men of his age, a new era had dawned with the war and it was for the better. They all believed they were fighting for the better, fighting for the new, so who would dare tell them that maybe it wasn't for the better?
After the briefing, the troops set out, marching across the land and seeking out targets. His first kill sent a wave of euphoria through him, making him feel proud for serving his country even though his parents tried to tell him not to go. His wife, the beauty Rebecca Sheers, had encouraged him, lathered him with love and adoration when he talked about going to war, and when it was time for him to be deployed, she cried with happiness. He decided to mention the first act he did for his side in the letter he was currently writing to her. It was a pact between the both of them that they had to write letters to each other but save them instead of sending them, and when they were reunited then they'd give the other their letters to them. Of course, no thought crossed their minds that they might be reunited through a casket.
A command was shouted and the men branched out, separating to cover more ground. Several others entered the village that Sheers found, breaking into the houses and searching for the enemy. Seeing that the houses were covered well enough, he went deeper into the village and towards the town centre. Keeping watch on both his left and right side, he crouched slightly and made his way towards the building directly ahead of him. Pushing the door open with his boot, he pointed his gun in first before stepping into the open area. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he progressed further into the building. Anyone he came across who wasn't on his team he'd been given orders to shoot first, ask questions later if they happened to survive. Most of them wouldn't survive because they were trained to shoot to kill.
As he went to turn down a hallway there was noise behind him and he spun around and aimed his gun, his finger about to squeeze the trigger. He stopped when he saw who it was, his finger slacking before dropping from the trigger altogether. A little girl was standing in the middle of the entrance area he'd just been in. She looked malnourished and dirty, her hair clumped together with mud and her face scraped and brown in places. She had no shoes on and just a little rag dress on. Sheers lowered his gun slowly and took a step forward. He believed she was a victim of war, a defenceless little girl whose parents had either deserted her or been slaughtered by his troops. War was no place for a child, except if they willingly choose to join up at the age of fourteen. Boys used to be classed as children at that age, and some people still try and convince them that they're children, but for the majority they feel like a man and enrol for a man's job.
The girl shuffled a bit and became unsteady on her legs before she righted herself. His training became distorted in his mind and instead of viewing her as the enemy, he just saw the little girl. No threat, no reason to neutralise. The words of his sergeant ran through his mind, warning him of keeping one view that he had to stand by no matter what. That view was of their side winning and eliminating the enemy – not saving those who they believed to be innocent victims of war. But he ignored what'd been drilled into him and crouched down onto one knee and placed his gun to one side, disarming himself and briefly taking his eyes off of the little girl for a second.
It only takes a second to lose a man to war.