Collateral Damage

1, The American Invasion

Love is a pointless concept, created by men to justify their disgusting ways. Love is a tool, used with selfish intent by selfish people. In this world, there is no such thing as love.

He trampled her heart, ran it over. He shot at it more than he shoots at the enemy. He was reckless. However, today rather than to gaze into his, fittingly, green eyes, Lilly will wake up to a frozen window, the only thing she sees is the clouds. Until her plane lands, the clouds vanish and the only thing she can see is the most war-wrecked country on this planet.

"Good morning ma'am," some measly private screeches. He can't be too long out of basic, I can still see the remains of spots all over his greasy forehead. "Private," I reply. I can hear the chills in my own voice. The crunch of boots on the sand, the sun on my neck. It's good to be back... and now I'd quite like to fuck off to England.

I drop my shit in my office, I don't particularly want to sleep in with the rest of the soldiers, but I suppose eventually I'll have no choice. "Staff Robinson that was a quick honeymoon," somebody calls out. I look up, of course, it'll be Johnson to barge his way through NCO* offices just to see me. "It's ma'am. I'm your new Company Sargent Major... and we're sticking to Moore," I sigh. That was definitely not an undertone of disappointment. "I see. I always knew he was a cunt anyway," Johnson chuckles. I raise an eyebrow, Johnson's such a tosser. "He was your recommendation," I point out. Johnson waves his hand, dismissing my comment. "And your future husband" there's a pause, "Did you hear what happened to Brooks?" he asks me, "No, I haven't," I reply, he raises an eyebrow, it can't be good news then. "Drove over a landmine," Johnson tells me, "And?" I respond. Johnson shakes his head, that's all I really need to know

I think he'd be happy he went that way. Brooks always said he wanted his death to mean something. I can imagine him up in heaven proud of what he's done. He should be though, he was a great soldier.

"Were you there?" I ask. Johnson nods, "Was he in pain?" I continue. Johnson sighs, I know memories like these are painful, but I want to make sure Brooks was alright. "It was very quick, he drove over and the Humvee went up in flames and parts were blown everywhere. I don't think he even had time to react," he tells me. I sigh, I'm relieved it was at least quick. I can't feel too sorry for Brooks, he did drive over an IED*, should have checked the road first. Johnson looks at me judgingly and I can tell my look has soured.

He raises an eyebrow. I know, he was my friend. I can't bring back the dead. I decide to take the same mindset as everyone else who's died for this cause; I just shrug and return my attention to work. Rather, unfortunately, every page I turn it's a letter about another dead man. "That looks like it'll be a fun write up tomorrow," Johnson states. I nod. "I have to count the numbers first," I reply. He stands there, contemplating for a moment. "Would you like some help?" he finally asks. I hand him a pile of paper. "Tell me how many dead, how many wounded, and how many I have left," I tell him. Johnson chuckles. "You're really the laziest Warrant Officer I know," he laughs, "I'm a soldier, not some office worker," I agree. His smile fades. "About that," he starts. I put my hand up silencing him. "If you tell me, I'll hate you forever. Let the CO* do it, when he gets round to it," I cut in. Johnson just nods.

I zip open my bag, pulling out my uniform. "That's a lot of ironing," Johnson sniggers, "Yeah, a hell of a lot," I agree. For some reason, I'm not in the mood for a joke. I pull out the ironing board and lay down my shirt. The iron slowly heats up, when the light turns off, I begin to smooth the metal over the fabric. Personally, I think ironing is the most time-consuming part of the army.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I glare at Johnson. "What is it?" I snap. He just laughs. "What?" I ask again. There's an awkward silence. "It's itching, what happened with Robinson?" he asks. I sigh, I was trying to avoid having to talk about it. "I'm not sure if he married me for my rank, though he could climb higher. Maybe he was a bit bored, either way, he was fucking the girl he really liked the day before we got married," I explain. I can definitely feel a bit of emotion. "Did you go through with it?" he continues. I shake my head. "No, I didn't, left him at the aisle," I chuckle. "Oh well, once a Private always a Private," He says, "Mmhmm, don't let the TOMs hear that," I laugh. I love that army saying: TOMs, totally obedient morons, otherwise known as a Private. Johnson and I look at each other and burst out laughing.