[ WP ] Write a story about a board game .

All I could smell was the blood. 
 
 It had started out so well; Tex and Smitty and Joker and Brody and me and God know how many others, barracked in southeast Asia; I think we were just outside Vietnam, or maybe Laos... I do n't know, borders had long been blurred in this infernal battle. 
 We'd laid down our trenches and we held that patch of dirt for as long as we could, because the man on high said it was *important*, that we were stopping the formation of an Asian superpower bloc. 
 
 And you know what? For while, it actually worked. 
 
 The problem with holding back a superpower is that eventually, they notice. And they do n't like it. 
 They came in the night; wave, after wave, after wave. So many men - good men, dammit! - gave their lives that night, but in the end we had to bug out; we pulled back to a base in Indonesia. The Asian superpower surged; the buildup of forces on the land we'd shed so much blood to keep them out of made me sick to my stomach. 
 
 And to no one's surprise, they came again. They should have known-! They should have known that they'd never have been happy with just Asia... They wanted the *world*. 
 
 When they came again, we thought we were ready - but in truth, we were like ants, trying to fight the ocean. 
 
 Tex fell to enemy fire in the opening salvo; lucky bastard never even knew what hit him. Smitty and Joker and Brody were taken out in one fell swoop; a surgical strike by the enemy, intended to cripple us. It worked, too. 
 And so I stood; the last man, on a pile of my brother's corpses, and I killed them - wave after wave - dear Lord, I killed them all. I was rage incarnate; clad in the tatters of my uniform and anointed in the blood of the fallen, I was Death made flesh to walk among the living! 
 
 And this ant, that night - he held back the tide. 
 
 But when day broke, so did I. 
 I dropped to my knees on that mountain of broken flesh, and I wept openly for my fallen brothers; the tears did little to mask the cloying stench of death. 
 
 When they come again, I will not resist; not even as they place the gun against my head. 
 
 > *Have you ever been playing Risk and there's that one soldier who just keeps on rolling sixes, holding his territory no matter how badly the odds are stacked against him? And then suddenly, he rolls a one? *
