Star Wars: A Lost Trooper

C9

I awake from my slumber with a massive headache. The headache that was probably caused my bawling. The hell of war is finally taking its toll on me. I should've listened to the breeders. I sit up, and force myself out of the dirt bed. I walk into the light. Or so I thought it was light. It wasn't. I stop and look into the starlit sky. Something about it seems attractive. Maybe it's the millions of stars that have been spilled into the galaxy, or the dark background that is the dark void of space itself. Or possibly the cruisers that pollute the view. I don't know. Nor do I care, I just look. I might not make it back. No, we might not make it back. D said that it will effect me dramatically. I know that he's right, and I know because of the feeling in my gut. I still hear the clone in my dreams.
I hear Devil, Crackshot, and Bolt. The horrifying visions of the malnourished clones in the back of that CIS transport. That was soon after we escaped. That was when we found D and Angel. It's horrible, what war can truly do. I hear him. Constantly. It hurts. It scares me. Am I insane? Crazy? Am I both? I don't want to go sector 4. I hear footsteps behind me. Then a voice.
Blast: You good?
Me: I don't know Blast. PTSD is just...
Blast: Listen unless it keeps me from blasting droids too much I'm good
I let my gaze fall back down to the forest. The jungle almost fades. It's interesting. The deeper into the forest you go the larger the trees and the more foliage there is. The further out you are though. When you get further away from the center of the jungle the smaller the trees are. These huge tropical trees are closer to the center, but on the outer section you have stuff like oak and birch. You know, the "smaller" things. What scares me is that Charlie's in there. Anywhere and everywhere. This war isn't just war. There's much much more to war then people think. There are different breeds. Gorilla Warfare is hiding and popping out of the bushes. Ambushes shit like that. Trench Warfare is when you take two long ass holes, fortify them, and put hundreds of men in them. When the order comes they all hop out of their hidey-holes and run to the enemy. Just run. That's all. It's suicide. People get mowed down by blaster fire from the enemy hidey-hole when they jump out of their hidey-hole to take the other hidey-hole. Artillery strikes, machine guns fire, and bodies hit the floor. There's more too! Civil, Biological, Chemical, Electronic, Conventional, Urban, Tunnel, Cold, Religious, Mechanical, Siege, Total, Cyber, Nuclear, Unconventional, and many more. This, this entire war, is a little bit of everything. More Total, Mechanical, and Siege Warfare than anything. We are sent to capture points of interest sometimes, and other we are sent to find Charlie in a fucking forest that being burnt out by chemical weapons designed to kill foliage so the CIS can't hide in the fucking trees and bushes. Here it's nothing but these four. Chemical, Trench, Total, and Gorilla Warfare. That is all. I've apparently been just staring for a few minutes. I snap out of it and look at Blast who is surprisingly still there.
Me: Yeah, I hope it doesn't
Blast: Yeah, me and Chuck wouldn't be very happy
Chuck has always been one of those gun-nuts that are super chill, but that chill attitude disappears when you mention taking something to somewhere that has anything to do with guns. He's mostly chill though.
Me: It won't too much, don't worry
Blast: Yeah, those bastards will pay for those that they've slaughtered
Me: The civies?
Blast: They need to pay for them to
Me: Yep
I look forward again. I wonder why so many have to die. Why this had to start. Why the CIS has to commit such horrors and acts against intelligent species. The policing done by the military, the execution and extinction of innocent and intelligent lifeforms. War is hell. That's something for the armor. "War Is Hell" I like it. I'll probably put that somewhere like... somewhere. I make my way inside and back to my bunk.