[ WP ] One last time

It's a suicide mission and we all know it. 
 
 The VC has been stockpiling supplies in the nearby village, and what was left of our division was sent to break it up. A few years ago they'd have sent hundreds of us unwilling draftees in, but that was before the Offensive. The Army's been pulling out, finally giving up. Now their sending us, no more than a few dozen, to do the job. 
 
 The monotone sound of the engine serves as a constant reminder that we are only getting closer. As I look around the transport truck, all I see is a group of dirty beaten down teenagers only the government would deem as adults. They all have their heads down as well, staring at the floor as I had been the entire drive, likely contemplating if they'd ever make it back to their life in the States. 
 
 Private Flynn, who has become a friend of mine through all this, breaks the silence. 
 
 `` Why are we even being sent out here? Do n't they know we already lost?'' 
 
 His eyes scan back and forth, looking at all of us, as he awaits an answer none of us have. Maybe they do n't realize how many Charlies are reinforcing the village. Perhaps they do, and they want to use our deaths as an excuse for sending more soldiers. Fuck if I know, I've learned long ago not to ask questions here. 
 
 My blank paranoid stare moves from the floor to the gash in the covering of the truck, almost making a window as loose strands of camouflaged canvas wave like a tattered flag in the wind. I can see the trees and jungle go by, and realize I never pondered their beauty. It seems crazy to say, but this wild landscape that I have seen nothing but death in is actually full of life. Wonderful, beautiful, amazing life. I wish I could see it before we came here, when there was peace. 
 
 `` Alright boys, we're gettin' close!'' The driver yells back. I guess that did n't sit right with Flynn, as he rushes to the back hatch of the truck to puke. I look away out of respect, and fear that I may be joining him. 
 
 After just a few maddening minutes of silence, the truck turns off of the dirt road, and goes a short distance into the brush. 
 
 The hatch opens, and our Sargent's coarse voice echoes in. 
 
 `` We'll deploy here, just North of the village. Let's go, let's go!'' 
 
 As I stand in the back of the transport, awaiting my turn to exit, I remember something very important. I take off my helmet, and poke my fingers underneath the worn lining. I remove a picture of my beautiful little girl, just to see her face, if only for one last time.
