At a distance the ranks of soldiers looked formidable, impressive, and possibly even imposing. Yet, as one neared them, one began to realize that there were flaws in this image. Where there should have been matching uniforms, or even just a unifying color, one found mismatched clothing: jeans, camouflaged pants, long sleeve and short sleeve shirts, vests and jackets, black, red, blue, green, yellow, and white. Some wore hats, some helmets, some nothing. Some sported goggles or sunglasses, others simply wore spectacles so that they would be able to target their enemies at range.

Some stood at rapt attention, but most slouched, leaned, shifted nervously, or simply stared off blankly into the blue skies. Some looked at the opposing army on the opposing hill and thought about how it wasn't supposed to be like this anymore; battles were supposed to be fought at a distance in small units - not charging willy nilly at each other across a field.

These men weren't Marines, or Legionaries, or Spartans staring across the verdant field at one another. These men weren't even soldiers. These were simply men with guns who knew that if they didn't kill the man standing across from them, he was going to kill them. This wasn't about land, or resources, or money, or women, or power. It was about preservation - preservation and annihilation.