We’d joined the Army to develop leadership skills, to be all we could be, to realize our full potential. Sure, they gave us guns, sure we practiced shooting them at things, and yeah, we heard a lot of shit about protecting Freedom, being the Global Warrior, mm-hmm mm-hmm.
We never thought they’d actually send us off to war. But they did.
We arrived on the battlefield. We were supposed to be pumped, man! Hoooaaa! But I don’t think any of us were feeling it.
Over the ridge came a batallion of enemy soldiers, yelling fit to bust, pointing their guns.
There was a standoff. We pointed our guns at them. They theirs at us. (or something).
I was supposed to start firing. I couldn’t do it. After a minute, everyone in our group just threw their guns on the ground. Fuck it. Why should we shoot these people?
The enemy soldiers were just kids, like us. They threw their guns on the ground, too. Grinned sheepishly. We exchanged some high-fives.
I mean, I never killed anything in my life. Why start now?
A few football-fields away, the jet fighters all touched down. Ours and theirs both. The pilots jumped out and shook hands.
Commanders were shrieking in our radios KILL KILL but nobody listened.
Maybe this was a watershed for humankind, we thought. Maybe we’re over this war shit. Sorry, Mr. President And His Advisors. Nobody wants to do this anymore.
In the middle of the smiles and high-fives and general good feeling, a buzzing grew louder.
We looked up. HOLY FUCK! DRONES!
A squadron of drones swarmed us. Explosions began tossing plumes of earth. Bodies everywhere, screams, blood, sundered limbs.
Back at Predator Central Command, the kids with the joysticks high-fived. Their screens showed their scores in the top right corners. As soon as the carnage had been wrought, a Victory screen popped up.
Who’s up for a round of Halo?