Where Do We Go From Here?

Stepping past broken bayonets and dented helmets, Smith kept his head low and fixed his gaze upon the wasted earth below him. He doubted life lay beneath it, or anywhere nearby. A flower or a glimpse of green grass would be a blessing in this war torn wasteland, where the natural life was obliterated and all new life gives up before it can begin.

Looking past the smoking factures in the ground, Smith could see why.

Dust and ash clouded the sky, where even a flash of blue could rarely be seen. The land lay dead too, and it seemed that even crows couldn't descend to the remnants of the living. If there are any.

War is a violent thing, obviously, but before he had cast his own eyes upon it, Smith would never has guessed it could destroy more than just land and lives. It destroyed hope, reason, purpose and the future. He didn't see an ending past this; just more war. Pointless and unquestionable war. No Private doubted his orders, and no Commander second-guessed his, but Smith couldn't help but wonder why no one seemed to find the entire event so...wrong.

Wrong in more ways than killing. Wrong as in, 'How long have we been fighting?' or 'What are we even fighting for?'. He had read books and been taught in school of course, and he knew of the First and Second World War. But he didn't even know the countries at dispute today.

France, Germany, Britain, USA, Japan, Russia and countless others had vanished from time and history itself. Smith couldn't recall orders to fight any named country; just the target ahead.

Thinking back, Smith couldn't remember any disputes, or even what home felt like. So long and drawn out was war that it seemed to destroy all past events, erasing their meaning and in his mind and replacing them with tactics and logic. Destruction again- there's a pattern, isn't there?

He sat down near an empty crate that had brought more supplies, and tried to reason it out. He scratched his knee absently, and rested his head and arm on the crate. He read the stamp; 'Expiry: 25th, Aug, 2201. Do not use past 28th.'

His platoon were stopping under the shade of the craggy cliffs for a while, halfway through their journey north to- where? He didn't know. That's strange, isn't it? Has war gone on for so long that we don't need justification and purpose any more? Or perhaps we've gone backwards, back to survival of the fittest. Meaning, 'everyone kill everyone and let's see who's left'. It made sense, he supposed, what with World War II settling most countries major differences. The breakthrough of the year 2020 started the main industrialization of LEDC's, and pretty soon, no one had reason to invade anyone.

Which, he supposed again, gave them a reason. Peace is fragile and undetermined. It doesn't happen by force, but by equally neutral intentions. Do people become bored, living so well? He tried to remember back to his hometown- and found nothing. He didn't know where he was born and raised.

Glancing through the flurry of tents, he wondered if they were actually winning this endless charade, and found that he didn't know what country he was even fighting for. The more he thought, the less he knew, and the more he wondered why he had never questioned these things before.

Thoughts opened themselves up from the recesses of a mind he didn't realize he had, and soon a shadow darkened his seat. He blinked at the shade, and looked up into the eyes of his General and a Corporal. Both were eyeing him speculatively, looking at the crate he was leaning on. The Corporal stared at him, long and hard. Something cold danced in his eyes- indifference and detachment, as if Smith was a nonentity under the gaze of the supreme.

In a slow and careless move, the Corporal lazily drew his handgun, and brought it down directly in Smith's face. The General waited, seemingly bored and pondering thoughts of elsewhere, while Smith froze and found something he had never experienced before; fear.

With a flick of a finger, the gun fired and Smith was propelled backwards.

The General walked towards to the body, and flipped it over casually, with a foot, and turned his head in a calculating fashion.

"We're going to need more recruits, sir." The Corporal replaced his gun.

"Of course. Exterminate the rest, and order in a new batch. Tell them model 5m1th- P5K84 was faulty, too."

"Yes, sir."