(This will be a multi part series.) The lights flashed before me. Our helicopter rocked as the powerful waves of dust flew out in all directions. Lights in the cockpit started blinking as the ground rushed up. Then, it was dark. I woke up in the barracks. The sergeant walked in, "Rise and shine, boys." We all got up, getting dressed as we got ready for the exercise. The date was August 21, 2022. Russian and American forces were fighting because of the launch of a nuclear weapon on Chechen forces. We got ready, vest on, guns loaded. Three helicopters waited for us. We loaded up. There were two UH60 Blackhawks and one CH47 Chinook. As I got in the UH60, I saw some streaks above. Probably fighters, I thought. We've pushed Russia back to their border. We were preparing for an assault. I wasn't very talkative to the other guys, as I was new, just joining at 18, which I made last month. We took off. After about 10 miles I saw flashes. Then, I woke up. Others were screaming in pain. I crawled out, covered in others' blood. I had a gash on my thigh. I luckily had a lead-lined suit and gas mask on, which survived relatively unscathed. I limped away. Everyone was dead. The screaming stopped. It was silent. Fire was everywhere, destruction littered the wastes. I limped into a half-destroyed shed. There was a door. I opened it. Three barrels looked at me.