in wwIII

*you walk into the battlefield, a pour little orphan who was brave enough to even want to go to the war, now standing in it, your lost, scared, and uneasy, you see 24 grown-ups in the same outfit they wanted you to put on are standing still, following the orders of some random man controlling them, why's he so strict? you wonder, and you get in the empty edge of the now semetrical shape they're huddled in, you feel weird about killing other people but you know, they, well some, DESERVE IT*