[ 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 .

Henry's hand could n't stop shaking. 
 
 Focus you motherfucker, focus! 
 
 He steadied his hand and took a gentle slip from his extra-hot, triple-shot, latte. He smiled to himself. 
 
 Three shots... just like the Mozambique. 
 
 His sigh must have been audible. She glanced up her eyes moist and red-rimmed. Sitting down, he smiled at her gently. 
 
 `` Um, are you sure you did n't want anything?'' 
 
 `` No. no coffee. You know what I want. Why? Why are you going back?'' 
 
 `` Well...'' 
 
 ``... You protested against the war. You told me you were going AWOL. But ever since you went away...'' 
 
 `` Wait a minute, I did n't just go away. This shit's not like summer camp'' 
 
 
 
... 
 
 
 
 Henry's hand could n't stop shaking. 
 
 Focus you motherfucker, focus! 
 
 It smelled like roasted goat. Henry's empty stomach protested. He wished he had n't been too nervous to eat, but it's not like anyone could tell him, really tell him, what to expect. He sniffed again. 
 
 Is that rosemary? Oh Rosemary. Focus you motherfucker, focus! 
 
 Henry licked his lips involuntarily. He watched as the eerie green figures made their way through the courtyard. The squad leader signaled. 
 
 With a flash and a bang they were in. 
 
 Two to the torso. Once to the head. Fucking Mozambique! The man grunted and collapsed. Henry looked down and studied the man's eyes shut, mouth agape, gasping, forming a perfect o. A tangy mix of goat, blood and shit hung in the air. Henry Flemming had a raging hardon. 
 
 
... 
 
 
 
 Rosemary's mouth was agape, gasping, forming a perfect o. Henry grunted and collapsed next to her. Lying together, she slowly ran her hand down his chest, running her fingers through his damp hair. He held her hand close. He kissed it. 
 
 `` I'm so worried that I'm stick to my stomach.'' 
 
 `` C'mon it wo n't be that bad. Pretend I'm going to summer camp.''
