This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/LewisTheLeper on 2025-12-21 00:03:45+00:00.

When the war is over, Got to get away

Everyone remembers exactly where they were when the news broke. I was 15. We were having dinner. The sun had set over our dome. Dad was drinking a beer. We were listening to an illegal broadcast of the sports back on Earth. Everyone did it out here, no-one could afford the official faster-than-light transmissions. My sister was about to shovel some beans into her mouth when the announcement came over the waves. Three colony worlds had been reduced to oceans of rubble, simultaneously. Emergency transmissions got out but no-one made it back. Reports had come in of unknown ships beaming in, letting their soldiers run rampant, and leaving with everything they could carry. They were efficient. They brought ruin. They united us.

Pack my bags to no place, In no time, no day

Mum burst into tears when I told her I'd be leaving to join the effort. Dad asked who'd help with the fields. My sister clung to my leg, not wanting to let go out of fear of not being able to do it again. She wasn't old enough to understand it. My parents were old enough to understand why I had to. It wasn't about me. Or them. Or our colony dome. It was about us. All of us. The nine billion already dead. The 80 billion who'd seen the footage of the first three worlds turn to ash, and then the dozen after that. Peter and I made a pact when we first saw it. As soon as we were both 18, we were going. We had to. They'd be here eventually. And so, we signed the dotted line, said our goodbyes, and watched as the airlock to the dome sealed behind the shuttle.

You and I, We used each other's shoulders

Some would've called it training. We all called it a crash course. Something you'd get when there was a rush. Something that would make you feel ready. Something that gave you no indication as to the hell you were going to experience. We were almost through the 12 weeks when the news came again. This time was different. The egg-heads had come up with new weapons. Our lads were being pushed back slower than before. We were told we'd be going to reinforce the lines as soon as we were “trained” and ready.

Still so young, But somehow so much older

We were allowed to finally read our mail when we finally finished up. Rose got word from her parents that her twin siblings were both going to university. Simon saw his baby boy for the first time. Peter had video messages from his brother, asking him to bring back souvenirs and wanting advice on whether he should join when he turned 18 next year. We looked at each other and didn't have an answer for him yet. My sister had sent a video asking what space was like, and showing off the callouses forming on her hands. She was only 10. She had everything ahead of her, including the moment where the childlike wonder would be lost.

How can I go home and not get blown away

We were attached to a veteran unit. That seemed to be how it went. Give the newbies a chance to learn from the ones who knew how to survive. Rose, Simon, Peter, and I became friends with a few men who looked like they hadn't slept in months. They tried to teach us as we stood on patrol. They wanted to simply pass the time, and it seemed that scaring “the kids” was the best way to go about it. Makeshift weaponry, leading targets, setting traps, they knew it all. There was still life left in their eyes, but there was a profound ache and sadness that seemed to linger on every word they said. And when that first wave came, we understood why.

You and I had our sights set on something Hope this doesn't mean our days are numbered I've got plans for more than a wanted man

As much as you like to think you're ready for anything, you never are. You think you're ready to watch the dropship next to you lose both engines and fall from the sky, but you're not. You think you're ready to hear the rest of the men and women you trained with go silent as you're sat in the back of a truck, slowly getting closer to the lines. You think you're ready to watch the life leave someone's eyes for the first time. You think you're ready to see an injury so grievous and horrid that you have to lie to a complete stranger and tell them it'll be alright. You think you're ready. But you never are. No-one is. Not a single soul could ever be. There's nothing that can prepare you for seeing an enemy bomber making a run on your position before an explosion turns half of your friends into mist. We'd been here for three months and half our class was gone. The whole thing was fucked. Peter and I both knew we didn't belong here. We were farm boys. But someone had to. Someone had to give the bastards a proper challenge.

All around this chaos and madness Can't help feeling nothing more than sadness Only choice to face it the best I can

It seemed to be loss after loss. Every week we'd give up another bit of ground. They'd almost pushed us back to the port where we'd landed. We could see dropships making their approaches, stuffed to the brim with more meat for the grinder. Our platoon had been cobbled back together so many times from new lads that Peter, Rose, and I started referring to it as the Platoon of Theseus. Simon would've loved that one. He still haunts Peter when he closes his eyes. But there was nothing we could do about that now. We were digging in again, ready for the next trial.

When the war is over, Got to start again

I think they knew it was our final line of defence before our largest port. There's no way they couldn't have. They saw the thousands of ships landing, pouring people and resources out and to the ever-shrinking line. That was probably why it was the most brutal assault any of us had seen. Even the last veteran that'd taught us was screaming about how fucked it all was. Him and I worked well together. He fired the machine gun, I kept it loaded. We must've emptied at least a thousand rounds into them before we were knocked from our feet. We hadn't seen the rocket flying directly at the window we were firing from. I don't think it would've made much of a difference. His body took the brunt of the energy. I managed to come away with only a few scrapes and cuts. He wasn't as fortunate. There are ways a human shouldn't bend. We all watched the videos when we were teenagers, trying to gross out our friends. But there's something uniquely sinister seeing it happen to someone you know and have a brotherly love for.

Try to hold a trace of what it was back then

I gathered everything that could be useful; gun, ammo, helmet, his tags. I knew Peter's position and knew he'd be the first to fall when we were eventually overrun. I knew he wouldn't let that happen to me, and I couldn't let it happen to him. We didn't know what projectiles their guns fired, but they made a fucking horrific sound as they ripped through the air next to me as I dashed across the streets. I passed by Rose's position, her gun silent as the night. More and more of them kept pouring into the town and spilling into buildings, hoping to catch us by surprise as we tried to stem the tides out the windows. The roar of their bombers clashed with the whines of our fighters, doing everything they could to give those of us on the ground a fighting chance at drawing another breath into our lungs. One of theirs must've taken too many hits and nose dived into a building just up the block. I felt the heat wash over me as the dust sent me into a coughing fit. We weren't done though. We had to hold the line. No matter the cost.

You and I, we sent each other stories

Peter's ammo boy almost shit himself when I burst in. I gave my update to the both of them as I saw the gears turning in Peter's head. He wasn't a dumb man. He'd shown a knack for utilising our machine guns to devastating effect. He had me set mine up a floor up and a few windows down, giving us two different arcs, and giving them fewer places to hide. But I was on my own. Peter and his ammo boy would have to stick together, they were the first line of defence as the enemy came through the door. And as more and more of our other guns fell silent, we knew we wouldn't be far off.

Just the page, I'm lost in all its glories

Stepping off the shuttle back home was rough. Sure, it was good to be home, but how do you look Peter's mother in the eyes and not cry? How do you tell her that, against all odds, Peter held his position as his ammo boy kept his pistol trained at the door? How do you tell her that you ran as fast as you could down those stairs to help the guy you grew up with? You can't, because at the end of the day, no matter how much praise the brass gives you, no matter how many medals they pin on your chest, it was simply an unlucky shot that got him. A freak shot. A shot that one of them had made while firing blindly around a corner. A shot that missed me by centimeters and landed in the middle of his upper back. They said it was our nest that held the line that day. Apparently, the enemy grew so angry that we hadn't been dealt with that their commander ordered that we be taken care of before they could advance and secure the rest of the town. We held out just long enough for tanks to roll in and push them back for the first time. I only found out the ammo boys name at the medal ceremony, but apparently Peter, Liam, and I had scared the fuckers enough for them to start to lose cohesion. We were immediately shipped off to a hospital ship while the tanks pressed the advantage and took land...

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