The heads of my men hung dejectedly as they nursed their wounds, a layer of gravitas settling over the room. I glanced over the group, my heart sinking at the sight. All these soldiers, people I'd trained and fought with....they'd all been beaten and broken to the point of losing hope.

I couldn't blame them. I mean, who am I kidding, we all knew it was a lost cause from the beginning. But that didn't change the fact that it was our job to try.

I struggled to my feet, pain shooting up my leg from where it had been cut. I winced but kept hobbling forward until I was in front of the group. I cleared my throat, earning a few stares but most of them ignored me.

"Men," I started. "We didn't win today."

Everyone was looking now. Someone chuckled darkly, but nobody spoke.

"I know this was a hard loss, but everybody loses sometimes. We have to pick ourselves up and try again."

"It's suicide," someone shouted.

I sighed. "If I'm being honest, Lieutenant, we all knew that from the beginning. Now, either we get back out there, or we go home to the President and tell him we give up. Which option sounds better to you?"

Every face flinched at the thought of admitting failure. It would be better to die on the field than by the President's command.

"Guys, this could be our last chance. Why don't we just take it?"

"If I have to die, I'd rather it be for something I believe in," one man right in front of me stated, sorrow drenching his features.

I looked him in the eye. "Same here. And I believe in all of you. So, I'm willing to fight and die alongside you all. How about you?"