There’s another air strike on your position. Enemy UAV is airborne!
Your commander’s voice is booming over the sound of gunshots and explosions around you. The raging battle is deafening but his voice is louder, telling you to “Kill. Kill. Kill.” Yes God. The adrenaline has rushed into your face and is popping capillaries to the point where your eyesight has become simultaneously dulled to a violent hum and sharpened to perfection. You have loaded a rocket-propelled grenade, it is armed and ready. Your fingers stick to the trigger guards with sweat, but seem to be sewn to it by your nerves.
Orders are to take the Akhbar Bridge, or destroy it trying. Your regiment’s duty is to ensure the continued existence of seven points on the map. So far, you’ve lost one building but not the critical one. Not yours. Sitting. Dividing. Waiting patiently for the signal, you–a man in shrouds appears around the corner, firing his AK-47 before he even sees you. You pull the trigger. Your life, nor your death were in vain because you have killed a would-be attacker, thereby sparing your teammates an embarrassing loss. You might be dead, but so is he. And that’s that. You might be dead, now. An everlasting memory in your family’s eyes, a stain in the dirt, an American Flag sent Home, but at least you killed him.