We had left the airstrip and were on our way to the front lines. My heart was racing. I couldn't function. I would probably die first. I want this fucking war to end. I wanted to go home. 

I didn't know how much I would want to go home later. I couldn't understand how horrifying war really is. 

Day 5

Front lines. They were set up through some small town that had been completely bombed out. The lorry came to a stop just outside of the town. I was about to ask why we didnt just pull in to the town, then I remembered Lieutenant Cockmunch would probably spout off, and just as I was opening my mouth to ask, a building visible on the outskirts got mortared. The entire structure crumbled to the ground like a house of cards, but with a lot more dust. I could see people getting smoked by the chunks of frame as they fell out of the second floor. 

So we got to jog the rest of the way. 

As soon as we entered the city limits, one of the corporals got hit. His head got blown in half, the side not attached to the neck went to shit and coated the lieutenant. I got some satisfaction out of this, then as the sound of the sniper shot reached us, it hit me- the guy just got killed. We weren't any more protected than he had been, maybe less so. What did I do? I fucking ran. I didn't care which direction, I just ran. I accidentally sprinted towards the enemy, despite the fact that I knew they had mortars and sniper rifles and god knows what else. They actually ran away because for all they knew I was a suicide bomber and I was going to blow the bunch of them to hell. 

Somewhere a couple hundred yards past enemy lines I ran out of steam, then realized where I was. Surprisingly, no one was around. But when they saw that I wasn't rigged to blow, they opened fire. 

I shit a chicken. 

I pulled out my primary- E64, short- medium range automatic, standard issue to Equestria infantry- and shot at every rifle flash I saw. I hadn't regained the energy to run, so I did that kind of dance the 'special' kid does when he tries to dodge dodgeballs. It worked. I didn't get hit, though I had a few close calls, and eventually I fumbled my way across the front lines, back to my side, where the platoon was waiting to cover me. I ducked behind a burned car to catch my breath and count the chickens I had shat. About a dozen. A decent coop. 

As the last chicken ran off, I got another leadshower. The full-metal jackets the enemy had in their guns easily pierced the rusted car body. I remembered from training the sniper rounds would go through the engine block, and me three times before they slowed at all, but even then they'd still be lethal. 

By then I could run, so I ducked into the nearest building, where as luck would have it the rest of the platoon was bunking up in. The sniper shots occasionally pierced the wall, but that's what furniture was for. We shoved everything in the room that wasn't ours, and some that was, against the wall. A couple of the platoon had been killed, so we used their bulletproof vests to block up any weak spots.

Worked pretty well. 

Day 8 

We'd been in this building for three days. This marked the fourth. There hadn't been much action, we only shot a couple lone wolves who had gone to see where the fuck we were, and none of us got injured. 

I was still being teased for my suicide attempt. My name may have been Fiddlesticks, but to the platoon I was Megadick. I got it pretty much as soon as we got ourselves situated in this building. That chick Rainbow Dash came up with it. I asked her why today, and she told me, 'That shit takes a lot of balls.' I told her I had done it by accident, and was shitting myself half the time. She just laughed and said,'Okay, Megadick.'  Next Chapter: Entries 4 to 6 Estimated time remaining: 7 Minutes