[ WP ] It 's becoming embarassingly apparent to everyone that you 've never actually killed a zombie before .

Sgt Eicher looked over the pitifully small remains of second platoon. The young men were sore from weeks of hard fighting, their eyes sat deep in their faces, dark and dirty from weeks of little sleep and no showers. All of them had lost weight. Some had entirely discarded their IOTVs, too weak to struggle under the weight of ballistic armor. He grimaced as he saw the blood and dirt caked on their kit. It was his job to make sure they have their rifles at least a rudimentary cleaning before they were sent back out. 
 
 `` Listen up! I want every one of you to bring your rifle by me once it's clean so I can verify that it's clean. Nobody racks out until their assigned weapon is clean, but make sure we send two guys to pick up chow, if there is any.'' 
 
 Before he made it back to his poncho hooch, Pvt Simmers was already catching up to him, rifle in hand and ready to be inspected. Surprisingly, there was virtually no carbon inside the weapon. In fact, Simmers had easily the cleanest weapon in the platoon. Come to think of it, Simmers was the cleanest in the platoon. Sure he was tired and grimy, but he had no scratches on his arms and face, no bruises, no carbon caked under his fingernails, and most importantly there was hardly a drop of blood anywhere on his kit. 
 
 `` Hey Simmers, last night when we got swarmed trying to get to the folks trapped in the Walmart, how many of those mofangles did you pop?'' 
 
 `` Uhh it was at least twelve, sergeant.'' 
 
 `` Uh-huh. And how about when they got in close and we had to fall back and your squad was supposed to cover us from the support by fire, you guys got pretty chewed up, huh; Sgt Taylor had to but down Howie, did n't he? Pretty brutal stuff huh? How many you put down from up there? Musta had some real clear fields of fire.'' 
 
 `` Uhh I dunno sergeant, must've been a couple.'' 
 
 `` Well what about last week, when we got hit trying to make contact with those guys always broadcasting on the radio? You remember how they came out of the woodline at us? Right on top of us before we knew it, right? Had to be a mean sonuvabitch to get outta that one, right Simmers?'' 
 
 `` Uhh Roger sergeant.'' 
 
 `` You know Simmers, you're not a real big guy, so I figure you got ta shoot most of em before they can get right on top of you, huh? So you a real good shot, right Simmers?'' 
 
 `` Oh, uhh, I do n't know about that sergeant.'' 
 
 `` Oh do n't know about that? Do n't know about that? Shit dude you do n't know about that? Of course you do n't know about that you stupid fuck! How are you gon na know if you shoot real good if you do n't fuckin shoot, dickhead! Hell I mean everybody here's killed they fair share, even Blasingame finally came outta his shell and he kills em. What am I gon na do with you Simmers? What am I gon na do with you?'' 
 
 `` Uhh, well, I uh, I do n't know what to say sergeant. I just freeze up or hide. I just wan na run.'' 
 
 `` Shit man you've got ta fight against it. We all wan na run. Well except Halstaf, I dunno how he found his ex and Jody in all this mess but he done went and found em, after they been bit. But the point is Simmers, you ca n't give in to that shit. You got ta be able to pull some testicular fortitude outta yourself.'' 
 
 `` I, uh, I'll try sergeant!'' 
 
 `` Good, because if this were a movie I'd say something like'If you do n't, I'll kill you my self!' But really, I'll just tell the platoon what you been doing. Shamwell'll outright kill you, worse than the Z's will too.''
