The Horrors of
War
by Christopher
Silva
The battle
raged on and I was on the ground and in the
middle of the fray.
I'm a hardened
officer and bring many years of experience with
me to the battlefield. The campaign had gone well
and we were advancing rapidly, goal in sight. My
squad leaders, veterans all, were doing a hell of
a job and the cadence quick and clear.
The casualties
were mounting though, and worry flared its ugly
head. I choked it down and we pounded forward,
leading my battalion, swinging left and right,
the enemy just a red blur.
The hand to
hand fighting is the ugliest, and I was knee deep
in it.
The tie
wearing enemy blinded me, flashing my eyes with
the red optical beam of his Microsoft mouse; I
parry and throw my notebook, like a scythe it
hits his chest. He goes down; I shake my head,
trying to get my vision back, beads of sweat
flying around me. I feel a staple bounce off what
is left of my armor, the tweed saves me again.
With a roar, I leap with all my might, and attain
the desktop, felling one after the other,
keyboard whipping at the end of the cable a blur
of Black Death.
In the
background, I hear my propaganda team beating
away, sending belittling print jobs, chipping
slowly at the moral of the enemy.
Something
ricochets off my scull. I see stars and begin to
fall. Hitting the ground with a thump my breath
goes out of me, I pull a damaged flat screen over
me to protect against their jarring blows trying
and scurry under the concealment of the desk,
holding the flat screen before me as a shield.
I get a moment's
repast from the melee and quickly asses the
situation. My Department is doing well, and two
or three of my special operators are struggling
with an enemy giant. The giant is swinging a
multifunctional device and one of my operators
goes down in a curtain of crimson.
I struggle to
my feet, avoiding the cable traps, and move
toward the Giant. I hurl my PDA with what little
strength I have left and it catches him in the
throat. The move motivates my operators and they
bring him down with multiple blows from jagged
thin clients.
We've done
well and championed the day. My battalion
completes the mop up and deletes the access of
the fallen.
Clocking out,
I smile, for tomorrow morning the battle begins
again at nine!
|
