Cally Ber

"It's fuckin' hot, dog," said Corporal Persons with a coming sigh, the anger of boredom is evident in his voice before he leaned out the window and spat his small puddle of chewing tobacco spit out the HUMVEE window. He wasn't incorrect; the Syrian sun emitted such a strong radiance of heat among the sands of the desert. We could barely even rest our hooves on the window because the metal of the vehicle was scorching, each time we attempted it felt as if our skin would melt to the metal. What made it all come together as a clusterfuck is that even the air conditioner didn't work, so all our sweat seemed to blend with the heat to cause a moisture version of a microwave. "Why can't we ever invade countries that have great weather and hot chicks? This shit is exactly why there is always wars here. A nut busting haji is a happy haji," started Lance Corporal Trombley from the back seat of the HUMVEE. Trombley would go on as a constant form of one-way communication, which was ironic as he was our Communications Transmissions Marine. He continues his tangent; we would either listen in as a joke or look out to the sea of fallen empires that were under the ocean of sand. Every day, I would look out and wonder if all this was a valid means to an end; or if we were just another superior civilization bound to join the rest of this vast graveyard. Every direction seemed as if it would never end; the brown and rough ocean ran farther than the Earth itself as dunes breached the earth. A sprinkling of green and brown bushes barely made the area any closer to a biome that could support nature, with half of them being bare and without life. The sun seemed to be closer here than anywhere else I've been on this planet; as if the land itself was under a Celestial sun attack. Invisible waves were blending the reality of this dimension and somewhere better, calling to me to join and leave this world. "All vics, Hitman Actual, full stop," buzzed the speaker with the hardly comprehensible output from the radio between the driver and me. I look over at the driver, Corporal Persons, who was already shaking his head as he slowed the massive machine to a halt on top of the sand. The Marine shouted in anger before hitting the steering wheel with his hoof, making the already bruised and black circle jiggle within its residence. "Goddessdammit! I'm taking a piss," Corporal Persons said before opening the heavy door and slamming it. Like sleep that has been interrupted multiple times, we were all close to just losing our bearing outright. "Bravo 1-1, Hitman Actual, move with Bravo 2-1 and head North of out position to mission point. How copy?" outputted the radio before a response came in right after, "Bravo 1-1, WILCO." The HUMVEE in front moved forward, pushing away the sand as it started its movement. A silent and slow second passed as my hairs raised themselves in defeat before a small blast blew the vehicle slightly upright, then back down in flames. The second following was even worse in time as it was all taken in that, my ears suddenly unable to comprehend any sound with the exemption of white noise. The radio, I imagine, was incomprehensible with words from a variety of swearing, yelling, and protocol commands for the situation. Corporal Persons stood up with a velvet river following the curves of his forehead to the right of his lips as he set his rifle on the top of the HUMVEE, aiming the weapon to the what seemed to be a black post around 80 meters behind a batch of bushes. As fast as I saw him, a sharp tone rang into my ears and the post was pushed down to the ground with his back going first into the abyss of sand. The Marine leaned back from his sights before walking back to his spot in front of the steering wheel, both of our eyes locked on the destroyed metal casket of 4 Marines. As the white noise faded away, I started to hear once again finally, but what stood out the most was Corporal Person whispering to himself in solemn. "The priest told me it's not a sin to kill if you don't enjoy killing." He stated before letting a breath out. "My question is whether indifference is the same as enjoyment." A racking of metal came from behind me before brass could be heard hitting the bottom of the HUMVEE. Lance Corporal Trombley cleared his rifle before speaking emphatically, "All religious stuff aside, the fact is, people who can't kill will always be subject to those who can."