by Max Barry

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DispatchAccountMilitary

by The Federal Republic of Yugobatania. . 7 reads.

"Orders are orders"

Another cold draft swept through the valley. The only sound coming through the Vearny Mountains were the distant chirping of birds, the rustling of branches in the trees, and if one were to listen close enough, the breaths of men waiting. Waiting for what you may ask? Orders. A good soldier always listens to their superiors orders - even if they may seem unorthodox.

Private First Class Victor Maxwell was laying on his stomach, sniper in hand, looking across the valley and the mountains. He was deployed here for three weeks already, and nothing has come through this pass. Victor was covered in snow and bushes to camouflage himself. The best steady-shot of his class, he had a chance to find some real "action" near the border of Yugobatania and the Unian Union.

"Action my ass," he said to no one in particular. Not that there was anyone there.

He was sent on a scouting mission, and told to stay there and report anything of significance. Which there was none. Still, orders were orders.

"A soldier cannot function without orders as such as a child cannot function without its mother," his drill instructor once told him.

But were these orders important?

The people up in the Ministry of Defense could have just sent a whole platoon to watch the valley - but no.

They sent him instead to do the dirty work.

And what if a Unian convoy came through?

Well, report his findings, as he was ordered to, of course.

And still, the valley was as silent as it ever was. Why did they have to fight this dumb war?

Uranium. This is all just about who has a bigger wang. From what he could gather up, the Supreme President just wants more nukes to nuke others. But what for?

And still the valley was silent, and Victor's orders were still orders.

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