Wyatt's History & War Journals, Part 1: The Fight of My Life

A clicking sound is heard as a tape begins to play, the old sound ringing bells for those who listened to cassette tapes. "This is... *sigh* I don't even know if anyone 'll listen to this... Why...? Alright, my name is Black Fox. That's what they call me... Or they did... That was my name for years, before I came here. The amount of people who knew my real name, I could count on one finger. My story begins in 1935, the year I was born. My father married below his class, and his father disowned him for it, so we scraped by for meals and everything as best we could. Then... The war started. The second World War. It was a big deal for my world, my country. If you asked me to recount the reasons it started, it would get far too complicated and take too long... *there's a small pause* You'd say I was too young to fight when it started, since I was 6, and of course, no one could disagree... Then, well... Technically, I died. My entire family was killed, shot dead by Nazi spies. I got a bullet right here, in the brainbox. The next time I woke up, my chest was open, and I was noticeably more... Aware. Like my eyes had been opened. I was being poked and prodded my men in white suits and hygiene masks. It was a really fun time... *sigh* When I fully woke up, I was... Different. An adult. They brainwashed me so I could act older, and be like a soldier. Then the ones who were responsible for doing it just... Carted me off to war." War Journal Entry 1: I... I don't know how, but... I can write. It's strange, like I have someone else's body, life skills, and thoughts. But it's not... It's my own. I feel the need to write what I think, about everything. I can't tell anyone about my background, about how I am here and who I am. All I can be is a soldier. A good. Little. Soldier. Boot camp was... Easy. Too easy. Almost like I was on autopilot, going through the motions. And... I enjoyed it. That didn't feel forced. I got genuine enjoyment out of training, as gruelling as it was... For my first mission, I've been given a spot on a mission with the Americans 1st Marine Division. Whoever sponsored the project that made me... This, clearly wants to test whether their little pet project is worth the time and whatever else they spent on it, to send me with such a prestigious unit on a mission that will most likely be very dangerous... Time to test whether I really am a soldier, or just dead weight. "The mission was a success. A great success, really. We rescued some of their men with one being injured, and about 9 casualties overall, and blew the hell out of a munitions depot. Everything happened so fast in that mission for me, there was no time to truly take everything in. I was among some of the highest trained soldiers in the American military, and I felt... Safe. I think that's the right word. The true brunt of the war hadn't hit me yet. That changed with my next mission. All I got was messages from high ranking military officials, telling me where to go to get to my next position... And my next position was interesting. Stalingrad, Russia was my target." War Journal Entry 2: That... Was awesome! So... Exhilarating, and... I've never felt so alive. The gunfire, the explosions, the tactical planning mid-battle of the Sergeant and his men to adapt to new situations. I learned a lot from watching them, how they fight and the way they think. When we got back, I got new orders. I'm to get a plane to Russia, and then a train to the Volga River, then a boat into Stalingrad. Not dealing with the Japs this time. Got some Jerry to kill next! Bring 'em on! "Heh, I couldn't have been more wrong. I was young. I didn't understand the full realities of war. No matter how grown up they made me with whatever they did... Nothing could have prepared me for what awaited me on that boat ride, and afterwards..."