[ WP ] A young student is drafted off to fight in a bloody foreign war . He quickly finds that war is the most enjoyable thing he has ever experienced .

When Sergeant Mathers shouted through the headset aboard the plane before the jump, the words he spoke cut me like a hot knife through butter. 
 
 `` Within 2 hours you will either kill or be killed. When you hit the ground, they will be shooting at you. Shoot them first.'' 
 
 My parents did n't amount to much, but they were fantastic parents. I am their only child so when I got drafted, their initial response was to pack my bags and send me off to my cousin in South Africa. Before the war I had n't been hit by the patriotism bug that many had, but when I saw a picture of the Prom King that I went to school with head's cut in two by the blade of a downed MiG, I knew I could not pass off the call when it came. 
 
 As I stood at the now open door of the plane, it was this memory that took my mind off Mather's comment long enough to forget about vomiting. I glanced down at the grey Stars and Stripes patch on my uniform and leapt from the plane. 
 
 The first few moments after the jump were a blur. Even now I do n't remember any of it. I'd zoned out until a crack snapped past my head. 
 
 The fuckers were firing anti-aircraft rounds at us. Cheap shot. At least it was pitch black, but they got damn close considering they were firing blind. 
 
 `` Contact'' shouted Mathers. It was way too late to change course and I pulled my chute. The sound of a parachute opening is always a relief. At least when you are n't being shot at from the ground. I could hear the chutes of my comrades launch. 
 
 The radio crackled. `` Is everyone OK?'' Mathers asked in an unusually nervous tone. I do n't think even he had experienced anything like that before. We took the term sitting ducks to a new level that night. 
 
 `` Jones, Graham, Thompson, Baker...''. The register was entirely met with ayes. 
 
 The firing from the ground stopped. We landed 2 clicks East of our intended destination but after looking at the team, I do n't think any of them cared. They looked drawn out. Zombie-like almost. I had never felt more alive. My heart was pumping but it felt good. It was euphoric. 
 
 Tough-nut Mathers had already composed himself and pinpointed on his map where we had to go. The Spanish air smelled sweet. We were set to rendezvous in the rebel held City of Valencia. The Russian/German alliance had been decimated by a series of allied nuclear attacks in France, Poland and and Southern Russia. 
 
 The UK Prime Minister ordered the attacks after intelligence advised of a planned German invasion from France. History always seems to repeat itself. 
 
 17 million had died as a result of the allied bombs. When it happened I could n't believe it, but not I felt as though I could take the rebels on by hand. I was ready to fight. I was ready to die. 
 
 I did n't enjoy school, and from what I've already said you can gather that I was n't Prom King. Not even close in fact. I was quite literally last in line to the throne. Probably behind a few of the girls too, I might add. I'm not particularly hideous and certainly not overweight but in the social jungle of High School I chose to keep myself to myself. 
 
 I'm not sure why I was thinking about school as we trecked silently through nighttime Spain. The occasional gun shot could be heard but the Spanish rebels were hardly the most reserved characters. 
 
 We were on the edge of the city when we came across a Humvee by the side of the road. It was strange purely because there were n't supposed to be any Allied forces in this area yet. As we got closer to it we found a puddle of blood behind the wheel. I brought my gun up ready to fire. I was damn ready to kill someone. I peered into the vehicle to find a headless Marine. 
 
 I should have been disgusted but I was n't. I was excited. 
 
 I overheard Jones muttering away while I was in the Humvee searching for anything useful. 
 
 `` CONTACT RIGHT'' 
 
 `` CONTACT LEFT'' 
 
 What the fuck. All at once. This was it. The moment. 
 
 I scrambled to get out of the Humvee, slipped in the excitement and slammed my head into the door frame thing. 
 
 As I came to I saw Jones get shot in the head. Splat. That was him done. My excitement turned to dismay. CHRIST. Where had his face gone. Were they shooting bricks? Damn. There was nothing left from the shoulders up. 
 
 I was lucky to be covered by the vehicle. I duck down and collect my thoughts. The feeling of being alive was back. Stronger this time. I did n't want to lose it. 
 
 I soon realised why Jones had no head left when anti-aircraft rounds slammed into the Humvee. Poor Jones had taken a round to the head. He died like Obama in Kingsman. Losing his head in a puff of smoke. 
 
 
 I looked across at Mathers who had found his way into a ditch. They'd taken out th attackers on the right while I was out cold. He pointed at the Humvee I was hiding behind. 
 
 He wanted me to get on the mounted 50 cal. Okay. I climbed into the Humvee and peered out a hole in the back. The shooting stopped. Something had jammed in their gun in the back of a pick up truck. This was my moment. 
 
 I jumped up, readied the weapon and fired. They noticed and tried to run but it was too late. My bullets cut them down. 10s of lives ended just like that. One of them only looked like a kid. 15 maybe, but I did n't care. 
 
 `` Good job, Private.'' Barked Mathers. I went over to him. He patted me on the back and I threw up. `` That's war for you.'' 
 
 He was right. That was war. And I fucking loved it. 
 
 
 

