The war had raged for two months before they started drafting men.

Our enemies were brutal, unrelenting, raining death on us. Apparently that was excuse enough to start throwing bodies at them.

He was one of those bodies. Barely a man, a boy honestly, but he was so eager and willing to protect his homeland, his family. We all were.

We had one week of basic before they shipped us out. And hell, we were ready. At least that’s what we thought.

They don’t prepare you for what war truly is, they stuff your head with patriotism, honor, heroism. Ain’t none of that. Just death, mud and survival.

We were all supposed to die out there, in that mud. But we didn’t. He took charge, he killed like a animal, and saved us like a hero.

And what did that get him? More war. They sent him out to die in a another fight, unwinnable, suicide.

But he didn’t, he survived. Battle after battle.

He was a war hero, metals covering his chest like armor. We all inspired to be better because of him. But we saw, we knew. His eyes were tired and his hands shook, he was sick of killing. We all were.

Then the war ended. Eight years of death, fire, hell, it was over. We got off those boats skipping home. But home wasn’t welcoming. We were considered murderers to the people we fought so hard for. Spit on, screamed at, left to rot. A lot of our friends, comrades, brothers, couldn’t take it.

We all made a pact, one shared by spilled blood. We’d never let them throw us to the wolves again.

Soon after another war broke out, somehow worse and more brutal then the last. They begged us, pleaded, and when we refused, they drafted us. We were sick of it.

No more we said.

So we fought, and we fought hard. We bit back with bullets, we killed with savagery. We spilt our homelands blood, our families blood. We were brutal, he was brutal, there was no room for mercy between us and rightful justice. They stood no chance in the end, we were killing machines, and we slaughtered our masters.

And we didn’t stop, probably never will. Not till we take what should of been ours. What will be.

And he’ll lead us, to victory, to salvation.

I’ll stand by his side no matter what, my brother, my friend, my Caesar.