Halfway down the trail to hell

In a shady meadow green,

Are the souls of all dead troopers camped

Near a good old-time canteen

And this eternal resting place

Is known as Fiddler's Green…

­-Fiddler’s Green, U.S Army Cavalry Journal, 1923

One month till Departure

The return flight was silent, neither of them too shocked, or too frightened, to have anything to say. No gestures of reassurance, no words of comfort, just a cold emptiness that sat between them like a predator ready to strike.

Sunset refused to look at her husband. At first he supposed it anger against him for his inevitable departure, but as time passed, Marc began to realize the truth. It was fear of what he could possible become. From her point of view, she may well see a corpse.

“We’ll find out more about what’s going on when we get back,” Marc said quietly, about halfway through their final flight in. “We barely know what’s going on.” Sunset didn’t even move, not the smallest hint she had heard him.

Marc sighed, opening up his phone and looking at the text Mac had sent him:

BDE says we’re leaving in a month, headed for Camp Mattis on the Hungary-Romania border. No official word but rumor says we’re not going to be part of the Bucharest invasion. Biggest thing I’ve heard so far is that we’re going after Discord himself.

Everyone’s been called back from leave. CO hasn’t told me whether or not you’re gonna go, but he wants a meeting with you, me, him, and 1SG, so they’re gonna try to send you.

Let me know when you get back in.

‘Busy’ was not the word Marc would have used to describe the upcoming situation. ‘Absolute chaos’ was more likely to be fitting. A month of time to have every soldier ready to deploy, have all equipment packed and shipped, every weapon made ready, not to mention the absurd amount of smaller details that he was forgetting… the next month was to be monumentally terrible.

But would he even go? Cpt. Armor knew that Marc was on the non-deployable list, but if he wanted a meeting with the chain of command, then the odds that they would be trying to send him anyway was likely.

Of course she’s pregnant now, he thought. Right when I may be leaving again. He felt a rage in his blood that sent his body boiling. The timing could not have been worse.

The flight landed and the two were soon off back to their home, hardly a word passing between them as they made the return journey. Sunset remained stoic, even as they came home and began to unpack. The night began to fall and still she said nothing. Marc cooked a quick meal for the two of them and Sunset said nothing as they ate until she could take it no more-

“Why are they going to send you?!” she cried, rising to her feet, her crimson hair giving the impression that her very body was afire. “Haven’t you done enough in this? What more does this world need from you?”

Marc sighed. “It’s about experience. I’m one of the few people who was there at Almeria and made it all the way through still intact. There’s only four of us from King Troop still left- me, Mac, First Sergeant, and CO.”

“That doesn’t justify sending you! You’re not even supposed to be able to deploy at all!” Sunset looked on the verge of tears, so great was her anger.

“Cpt. Armor wants to meet with me, so I guess they’re gonna try to take me off the non-deployable roster,” Marc said. “They’ll need written approval from a medical professional too, so they’ll have to ask Cadance whether or not she agrees with it.”

“And if she says yes? What will you do?” she pushed.

Marc gave a heaving sigh, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t know, Sunset,” he admitted. “I’m not gonna have time to think about it, I’m just gonna have to- decide.” He looked up at her. “What do you want me to tell them?”

“To tell them no! That you don’t need to go back! Look at what you’ve already had to go through, you don’t need more suffering!”

“And then someone else has to go suffer. Someone who doesn’t know Bright, or Rumble and Featherweight. They won’t know my guys like I do, they may not even have the experience to lead them safely.”

The reality of the fact was enough to make Sunset stumble. “I know, but- why does it always have to be you? Why do you need to be right in the thick of every fight the world has? Can it just be enough?” she pleaded.

“I… I don’t WANT to go, babe, I just…” Marc sighed again. “Dammit, couldn’t they have just let us watch this one from the sidelines? I don’t want to go but I know that if they ask me whether or not I can fight-”

“Don’t you dare,” Sunset snarled.

“-Then I’m going to say yes,” he finished. “Sunset, it’s the truth. I can go back. I may not want to but I can go back.”

“You don’t know that. You’ve barely been back here,” she said. “Do you not remember how long it took for you to come back last time? What happens if I lose you in the fight again, but this time no one can drag you out? What if you go and this time you come back in a coffin?”

“Neither one is gonna happen,” Marc said firmly.

“You don’t know that. Marc, it’s bigger than just you or me now. If it’s another year-long deployment than you’re going to come back and see your child- your child!” Sunset said. “And that baby will need a father, one that is whole and here. Not one that was never able to leave the fight behind.”

“I know, Sunset,” Marc said wearily. “But if I don’t go, then who? Someone else’s son? Somebody else’s husband, someone else’s father? Do you want me to live with that?”

“I want you alive- alive and whole,” Sunset replied. “This isn’t about trying to be a hero, it’s about being where you need to be.”

“I need to do what’s right! And if that means going to war one last time and seeing it done, then so be it! I can’t-”

“Marc, just do it!” Sunset pleaded.

“I can’t be a coward and turn my back on this! Sunset, we’ve had this conversation already!” Marc said. “You ask me to be a better person, a better man, but then you turn around and tell me to do the exact opposite. I have to do the right thing because I need my conscience to be at peace with itself. Don’t ask me to do something I can’t do!”

Sunset gave a groan and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “Absolutely infuriating,” she muttered. “Not because you’re stubborn but because I know you’re right and I hate it!”

“I don’t want to be right,” Marc said defensively. “Trust me, I don’t wanna go- but if I believe I can throw myself back into the fight then I’m going to go and finish this.”

“Do you have any doubts that you might have another panic attack?” Sunset pressed. “Any at all?”

“I mean- a little,” he said. “It’s always on my mind.”

“And what if you have one right in the middle of a firefight? What good are you going to be able to do?” Sunset pressed. “If they ask you whether or not you’re mentally ready to fight again, you need to be able to answer that question.”

“I’m aware,” Marc replied. “And I’ll- be able to. I know.” He sighed again, slumping back in his chair with an air of absolute dejection. “I wish I didn’t have to do this anymore.”

Sunset could only give him comfort, coming by his side and taking him in her arms as their reality continued burning to the ground.

29 Days till Departure

Marc hadn’t been in Cpt. Armor’s office since he had been asked to deal with Collie nearly a year ago. The place was tidier than, Cpt. Armor having not yet truly moved in to the office that once belonged to Captain Dyke. Now strewn across the table were various folders and records of soldiers, trinkets and tokens of a warrior’s life, various pictures and mementos of home. It was more than Marc cared to know about, or even knew how to deal with.

Cpt. Armor sat before him and Mac at his side, while First Sergeant Iron Will stood behind the pair, all of them having been summoned to the meeting earlier that morning by the Commander. No one tried to beat around the bush or pretend they didn’t know what had brought it about. They all knew.

Cpt. Armor sighed, listlessly going through a folder of paperwork that sat before him, Marc seeing his name on nearly every paper that was filed through. It was a hefty list of counselings and health reports, most having been in the last eight months, though a few had been prior to that. It was not something he was particularly proud of.

“Sergeant Reyes, you know why I’m wanting to talk to you,” Cpt. Armor said heavily. “At least, I’m assuming you do.”

“You’re wanting me to deploy with the Troop,” Marc guessed.

Cpt. Armor nodded. “You’re one of our most experienced NCO’s and that’s not something I want to devalue, nor push aside. We all know what you’ve been going through, but if there’s a chance that you’ve come along far enough to be allowed to return to combat, I wanted to discuss with you those options.”

“This isn’t the time to lie or bluff, Sergeant,” First Sergeant said, typically a calmer and more rational person than his countenance suggested. “You’re a helluva soldier and if I have you as one of my NCO’s then we’ve got one helluvan asset. But if you’re not going to be able to deal with going back, we need to know. I can’t afford to find out on the battlefield.”

“Sergeant Mac, how has he been faring these past few months?” Cpt. Armor inquired. “Is there anything to suggest that he isn’t fit for deployment?”
Sergeant Mac shook his head. “No sir. Always been a good worker, but overall attitude and countenance has improved the past several months. Reyes has been doing better.”

“And Sergeant Reyes? Anything to add?”

Marc bit his lip, filtering through his thoughts slowly and tediously as he dissected each and every idea and opinion he had as he tried to conjure the most truthful, most rational answer he could manage.

“Your last report, as per your counseling reports,” Cpt. Armor said, reading from a piece of paper, “Suggest that your overall mental health and wellbeing has been improving steadily. And that your self-perception has become more positive as well, with fewer negative traits being on display. Is that true?”

Slowly, but certainly, Marc nodded. “If you need me, sir, I can fight. I can do this,” he said.

“If I had you take a psychiatric evaluation, say, tomorrow, would you pass it?” Cpt. Armor inquired.

“I believe so, sir.”

“Believe… or know?” First Sergeant asked.

“I know, First Sergeant,” Marc said firmly. “I’ve gotten better. The nightmares have stopped, I generally feel better. I’m not going to be a danger to anyone but the enemy.”

“How’s your wife feel about you going?”

Marc grimaced. “Unhappy about it, as I am, but we both know it’s the right thing to do. I won’t lie, sir, I really wish we weren’t going. But if the Troop is going, then I’m going to be there with them to see it through.”

Cpt. Armor mulled it all over, gazing down at his desk as he considered every option. “All right, then,” he said. “Sergeant Reyes, tomorrow you report to Behavioral Health for an evaluation. If they see nothing wrong, then I’m going to get you on the Deployable roster. Afterwards, I’m going to make a push to get the both of you promoted. Brigade is wanting to fill whatever gaps every unit has, and right now they’re looking at Knight Troop and they want both platoons lead by a Sergeant First Class, along with at least once Staff Sergeant. Right now, they want to replace you both with someone else- not gonna happen.”

“Can that even happen, sir?” Sergeant Mac asked.

“They certainly want someone new in, but I’m not gonna have it. You two are way too experienced in your current positions for me to let you get replaced. I’m going to try and get you up to the rank your position requires and see if that solves it.”

“What do you need us to do in the meantime, sir?” Marc asked.

“Work like hell,” Cpt. Armor said. “Make sure our new soldiers are ready. Have all our things ready to be shipped off by next week. It’s going to suck, but we’re gonna get it done.” Cpt. Armor took to his feet. “SRP is in two days, gentlemen. That’s when it starts for real.”

20 Days to go

To little surprise, Marc passed his psychiatric evaluation with ease, and was immediately put back on the roster for deployment. A day later, he and Sergeant Mac were promoted before the Troop- Staff Sergeant Mac to Sergeant First Class, and Marc to Staff Sergeant, as well as First Platoon’s role of Top Scout. Almost immediately they found their hands full with a veritable multitude of tasks. Soldiers to prepare, gear to be checked, packing lists to be made, vehicles and equipment to be stored and shipped off, wills to be checked and verified, not to mention their own personal lives that needed to be sorted. The chaos that was coming, as of now, felt insignificant to the chaos in which they dwelled.

Three days before their bags were to be packed in the connexes, Marc found himself in his living room standing over a small mountain of gear and equipment, a piece of paper in hand. “Sunset! Come on, I need your hand with this!”

“I’m coming. Calm down, it’s not going to take all night.” Sunset appeared from the hall, her expression grumpy. As the days rolled by, a barely noticeable bump had begun to form over her belly, the first hint that a newfound life was indeed forming within her. To Marc, it was both an exciting and terrifying prospect.

“Come on. It’s gonna be a pain to pack all this, so I want to get it done now,” Marc said, handing her the paper and turning to face his gear. “Alright, let’s do this. What’s the first item?”

“Your assault pack,” she said, peering down at the list.

“Right there. Got all my pens and pencils in it, too,” he replied.

“Pair of underwear and socks?”

“Two of each,” he answered. “Just in case.”

“Headlamp?”

“And a pack of batteries.”

For nearly an hour they continued, working down through the list. The smallest details were counted, each amount needed perfectly filled, along with a few extra items Marc considered worth carrying. When they were finally done came the real struggle- actually packing everything. Huffing and puffing, struggling against a zipper on the breaking point, Marc finally managed to close his bags and tossed them in a corner, to be left untouched until the day came for them to be shipped away.

“Well, good riddance to that crap,” Marc said happily. “I’m gonna have to go over the guys’ stuff tomorrow to make sure we’re all good… You alright?”

Sunset had come to a standstill at the entrance to the living room, a hand over her mouth as the hint of tears grew in her eyes. “It’s actually real,” she whispered. “You’re really going to go.”

“Sit down for a bit,” Marc advised, settling down on the ottoman and reaching for her hands. “Come on. Relax for a bit.”

“I’m fine, Marc, really,” she said thickly, settling down beside him. “It’s just actually starting sink in, that’s all.”

“You gonna be OK while I’m gone?” he asked. “I mean, you’re not really going to be alone this time.”

Sunset laughed, glancing down at her growing baby bump. “It’ll give me something to look forward to, at least,” she replied. “I’ll find ways to manage. And I know what to expect this time around.”

“Are you still mad at me for leaving?”

“Well… a little,” she admitted. “But I’m proud of you for going anyway. I don’t think I would’ve married you if you were the kind of man who’d run from a fight.”

“Lord knows I want to,” Marc replied, causing her to laugh. “Thanks, pretty girl. Hey, actually- hold on for a second.”

“What is it?”

“Stay here,” he said, turning towards the hall and disappearing for a minute, before reappearing with a green notebook in his hands. “I want you to have this.”

“An Army notebook?” Sunset said, appearing confused as she began to flip through the pages-

“Don’t open it!” Marc cried, slamming it shut on her fingers. “Not yet, alright? When I’m gone, and only when I’m gone.”

“What have you got in here that’s so secret?” Sunset asked curiously.

“Just- trust me on this,” he said cryptically. “When I’m gone, and it feels like you’re alone in the world, I want you to open this and take a look inside. I’ve been working on it for a while now, and I thought… well, if I’m going to be leaving again, I want you to have it.”

Sunset gave a small laugh. “Now it’s going to be a real struggle to not sneak a look,” she remarked. “Thank you.”

Marc pulled her in close, kissing her on the forehead. “I’m going to miss you, you know that? Every day, I’m going to miss you.” And a bitter unhappiness, as wretched as the taste of blood, fell upon his spirit.

14 Days till departure

Every Trooper in the Squadron was out in the motorpool that morning, all of them heading for the vehicles as they prepared to ship them off. A long, arduous journey was ahead of them as their course would go across the Atlantic to France, where they would take a long train ride to Camp Mattis, where an eager and battle-ready Squadron would be waiting for them.

Marc sat out next to his vehicle, overlooking his entire section’s armament of Humvees. Now an official Section Leader, a sizeable group of soldiers now fell under his command, and he intended to make sure their departure would go smoothly. Marc gave a sigh of relief, thankful that Bright was dependable enough to ensure their own vehicle would be taken care of, as the load of new responsibilities he now dealt with was consuming his entire focus.

“Sergeant Tran, where’s your Driver?” he called down the line.

“Fox started getting sick, Sarnt! He’s in the latrines right now,” came the reply.

“Great. Perfect time to start throwing up- what on-”

The sound of treads and a thriving diesel engine met his ears. The entire Squadron turned to look as a small group of Bradley’s came around from behind the mechanic’s bay, their steel hulls glistening against the scorching noonday sun before settling in at the front of the motorpool line.

“Hey, what the hell!” Bright yelled, leaping from the TC seat and gesturing towards the group of Bradley’s. “Who the fuck they think they are to pull that sorta shit? Where the fuck they coming from, anyway?”

“They’re ours,” First Sergeant declared happily, walking up to inspect his Troop’s vehicles. “We just got ‘em yesterday- all brand-new M2A4 Bradley Fighting Vehicles, just for us!”

“A4’s? I thought they weren’t gonna release the prototype,” Marc said.

“Fucking search me,” First Sergeant remarked. “But they’re ours. Every light unit that’s deploying is getting one, one for each Troop or Company to help offset the firepower of the Empire’s T14’s. Word is the Imperial tank fleet is still pretty damn sizeable.”

“Who’s getting it in Knight Troop, Top?” Bright asked.

“Second Platoon. Sergeant Dieter. They’re going over to Benning for a month of training before joining us at Camp Mattis.”

Bright and Marc both grimaced at the thought. It would likely be the highest-pressure, lowest-reward job anyone in the Troop could have. A stressful training course at Armor School merging right into a deployment was not on anyone’s list of desired tasks.

“So glad it ain’t us,” Bright said as First Sergeant continued walking down the line.

“Thank God it isn’t,” Marc said. “Where’s Featherweight?”

“He’s helping the Armory get all the guns and shit packed, Sergeant,” he reported. “I checked our 50 .Cal before I came out here, too. All our stuff is looking good.”

“Good man. You got all your personal belongings ready to be put into storage?”

“Ready as I can be,” Bright replied, giving a heavy sigh. “Man, fuck these stupid Gyps. Goddman war is a stupid-ass mess.”

Marc said nothing, knowing none of them wanted to go back to the hellscape that had nearly consumed them all.

One Day till Dpearture

Marc remembered the feeling. The nervousness right before a drop; the long, slow descent into the deep that he felt before every deployment. No amount of time, no experience or familiarity helped to push it away or lessen it bite. Despite every skill he possessed, the best Marc had ever been able to achieve was to learn how to simply let it flow, uninterrupted until he grew numb to its presence.

Tomorrow afternoon would be the time it all began. All soldiers were to report to the Armory for their personal weapons before heading to the parade field where they would wait. Wait, wait, wait, until the buses finally arrived and took them to the airfield from which they would depart. After that? What came next was anyone’s guess.

Marc felt the softness of the bed beneath his fingertips, the sheets and blankets calling for him to rest, to fall under their spell one last time. But no amount of desire was enough to calm his restless spirit, nor soothe the anxiety that spun in circles within his chest.

He was going to war again. To fight, kill, maim and destroy- and perhaps be destroyed in turn. He did not know, nor could he know. He had dealt with these thoughts before. Each and every time the day came he felt that same stark terror in the face of the unknown, but now it held more bite and strength than it had ever held before.

If I die, Sunset will be on her own, he thought. On her own with a child. A single mother with no family and left behind to deal with the turmoil on her own. It was a risk unlike anything he had ever taken, nor one he ever would have chosen.

A face appeared in the doorframe, followed by a growing belly. Sunset walked in and sat down next to him, saying nothing as she took her husband’s hand in her own, squeezing it so tight that it caused him pain. Marc didn’t mind. The pain was a sign that he still breathed, still lived upon this earth, that the woman he loved sat next to him and was real.

“You should sleep,” she said calmly. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“I can’t sleep,” he said, his voice strained.

“You will.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Sunset gave him a sympathetic smile. Her hand left his and came to rest on his face, turning his head to face her as she stared him straight in the eyes. Her cyan eyes remained calm, as placid and peaceful as the seas after a storm, a calming presence against the turmoil within his own, muddied gaze.

“You’re going to make it through,” she said to him. “You’re going to come back to me.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked faintly.

“You will. Because I’m not going to believe in anything else.”

“Sunset…”

“Don’t you try and tell me otherwise,” she said firmly. “You’re going to believe that you’re going to come back, you hear me? You’re going to come back to me and see our baby, you’re going to come back and be a Daddy, and we’re going to see this war come to an end so we can really let our lives begin. Don’t you believe anything else, because if you don’t then it won’t come true. You say it to me, right now.”

“Sunset-”

“Say it.”

Marc looked around the room, his eyes wild as he searched for a way to say it, seeking out the smallest bit of strength to override his deepest, most desperate fears. “I’m…”

“Be brave,” she whispered.

Somehow, he found the strength, even if it was only for a moment. “I’m coming back,” he whispered, his voice faint as the wind at night. “I’m coming back to you.”

“And don’t you dare believe anything else,” Sunset said, kissing him again and again until she could bear it no more. “You hold on to that. You hold on to that promise and you come back. Do you hear me?”

The night came and fell upon their world, the young couple eventually being overcome by exhaustion. Though their fears remained strong, their apprehension great, weariness soothed their spirits to allow them rest, sleeping peacefully through the night and past the dawn until finally, the moment had arrived.

It was time.

Day of Departure

When Marc awoke, there was no flutter of the eyelids, no soft gentle rousing from his slumber. Simply a single, sudden movement from the world in his dreams to the waking one. The moment he awoke, Marc found no exhaustion nor desire to sleep further. His mind was as clear as the summer day, knowing what was about to come. He looked over at his still-sleeping wife and smiled. For all he knew, it would be the last time he would ever share a bed with her. Slowly, carefully so as not to wake her, he slipped from beneath the sheets and headed to the bathroom for a shower. The day had come at last.

Marc finished quickly, finding time was beginning to move slower and slower with each passing moment. How long did he have? Hours? A few minutes? It all felt the same at this point in the game. There was only here and now- until it wasn’t. Still moving along quietly, he found his way into the kitchen, staring out through the window into what looked to be a gorgeous morning. Of course it was. One last gift before the sendoff.

As he started to brew a pot of coffee, the sound of footsteps from behind alerted him to his wife’s presence. Without bothering to ask, he reached up and grabbed a second mug before heading to the fridge to grab breakfast.

The plates were made and the two settled at the table, picking at their food peacefully and letting the silence speak all the words it needed.

“You sure you have everything?” Sunset asked.

“I do,” Marc answered.

“Need anything extra before you throw them in the car?”

“I’ll be good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

No matter what they spoke of, their conversation was short, brief, and to the point. There was nothing left for them to say. They did little but sit together, waiting for the moment to finally arrive.

At last the afternoon came and it was time to depart. The young couple threw a trio of bags into the back of the car and began to drive, eventually joining a veritable flood of vehicles that were all heading for the same place. They didn’t need to guess why.

“I’ll stay here with your gear till you get back,” Sunset said, helping him hoist his duffel bags onto the already growing pile. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

“Not long. Just gotta check to see who in the section has already grabbed theirs,” Marc said, already hurrying off towards the Troop Bay.

“Good to go?” First Sergeant asked, standing next to the armory door as soldiers filed through to grab their weapons.

“Should be, Top,” Marc replied. “Bright and Sergeant Tran come through yet?”

“Bright? Yes. Tran? Not yet, his car popped a tire on the way over,” First Sergeant replied. “Check your phone, he said he sent you a message.”

“Might’ve, I’ve got the thing on vibrate. We know when the flight’s leaving?”

“Late.”

It was a better answer than he could have hoped for. Marc walked to the armory door and signed for his weapons. In an instant he slung the M4 across his back while he settled the holster of his M4 on his hip, whilst depositing a pair of NVG’s in his pocket. Just like that, he was done.

“That’s more than you usually have,” Sunset said, taking note of the pistol at his side. “Since when did you carry that?”
“Since now, I guess. You seen Bright?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

Marc gave a small snarl. “Come on, I need him to keep watch over the new guys-”

“He’s coming up behind you,” Sunset said, gesturing to behind her husband. Marc turned around to find the disgruntled Specialist walking up towards him, a solitary M9 at his hip.

“I just grabbed Bright and Featherweight, they’ve got all their shit together so that should be it for our Vic,” Bright reported. “Who else we missing?”

“A lot,” Marc said bluntly. “Half the section ain’t even here yet.”

“Fucking hell. As if proof no one wants to do this shit again.” Bright’s gaze, still scowling, flickered over to Sunset’s displeased face. “Oh, hey Sunset. Sorry.”

“I didn’t expect anything else at this point, anyway,” Sunset replied.

Marc’s gaze stared out into the growing crowd, finding his soldiers beginning to appear in groups of two or three, even four as the section continued to file in and present themselves. “Bright- grab hold of Featherweight and Rumble, get the serials from their stuff onto a piece of paper and bring it to me. I’ve got to get the rest of the section.”

“Hooah,” was the only response, and the veteran soldier disappeared into the throng, shouting obscenities at a pair of nerve-wracked young men. Marc found his Sergeants and young leaders, ordering them to do the same. In time, several folds of paper found their way into his pocket as he waited for the call to come, finding shade and settling down beside his wife.

“So now we wait?” she inquired.

“Now we wait,” he said. They sat together, watching the sun rise and begin to fall as evening slowly pressed forward. The heat was relentless, the march of time unavailing, and still they waited.

“I love you,” Sunset said. “Just in case you forget.”

“I know.” Marc squeezed her hand, giving her the smallest of smiles. “Love you too, pretty girl.”

“Bus leaders! Start getting your soldiers in line!” The call rang across the parade field and all heads turned to face the sound. Finally, in one single call, the time had come.

“I gotta go,” Marc said, rising to his feet and taking his rifle in his hands.

“Be brave,” Sunset said, kissing him one last time. “And remember that you’re coming back to me.”

“I will.” Marc walked out onto the field, finding a small group of three soldiers awaiting him, one a grim-faced, war-hardened veteran with the snark and sneer to match, the others still baby-faced and frightened.

“This is it,” Marc said, turning to the younger pair. “You guys alright?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” they mumbled, even Rumble’s usually confident visage subdued.

“Listen to me. We’re gonna be alright,” Marc said encouragingly. “Bright and I have done this before, and done way worse than what we’re gonna do here. We’ll get you both through this.”

“Just listen to us when we tell you to do something,” Bright added. “We’re gonna fight, kill, and kick ass- but if we tell you to do something, do it. It’ll probably save your life.”

“Only person that you listen to is Bright when it comes to that vehicle, you hear me?” Marc said. “And the only person who overrides him is me. You work hard, you move fast, you shoot fast. We’ll make it through. You can do this, you hear me?”

“Yes, Sergeant.” Neither looked fully convinced, though their voices had lost a hint of their tension.

“Soldiers, continue to move to your buses!” came the call, echoing across the parade field, and Marc realized the four of them had been standing together for some time.

“Alright, get moving. See you on the plane,” he said, pushing the two young soldiers on the way before turning to Bright. “Keep eyes on them.”

“Like a hawk,” Bright replied, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and sauntering towards the bus.

Marc took a steady breath, focusing on nothing but the air flowing in and out his lungs. The time had come, the moment arrived. It was time to do what needed to be done. He glanced over his shoulder and found her, the crimson hair flowing gently in the soft breeze. Sunset found his gaze and smiled, giving him a small wave of goodbye, the tears beginning to fall from her eyes like droplets of clearest rain. Marc smiled in return and gave a wave of his own before turning his back upon her and heading towards the bus. One last breath and the time had come.

The world of war had returned.

Author's Notes:

Arc One is over. Now the setting will change, the cast will be made new, the world will darken, and blood shall be shed.

I will always remember how the world changes when you're about to deploy. It's a strange, exciting sort of horror I can't really describe. I don't know if I ever will. It's just something you know, or you don't. There really is no describing that last, great leap into the unknown.

Comments and corrections below. Hope you enjoy.