03-16-2020, 05:16 AM
Getting drafted had never spooked him as most, to be honest. In some ways, Cass seemed a little disillusioned by the thought. His father proudly served in the war before, a sense of patriotism buried into the male the second he was born. He was a kid who grew up playing with toy guns and imagining the idea of combat, as a result. Not that it meant in any way he was particularly hateful towards any other ethnicity. His family just came with flaws at the same time.
His parents were the kind of individuals most in an urban society would scream at, negatively.
"One of my boy's going to war," his mother lauded with joy in front of the local news outlets. His father? Couldn't be any more proud, despite his frantic screams in the night to frequent drinking to forget the trenches of Berlin. So, to be quite exact, Cassidy "Cass" Jordan would head into Vietnam with a sense a patriotic duty for the great glory of America.
That was then. Compared to now, Cass still felt what he was doing was right and even if he didn't, what could he do? He was out in a forest in the middle of foreign land. What would he do? Desert his brothers in arms and flee for the forest for enchanted lust as some of them did? No, he couldn't. He had to push through and be a leader. For their sakes, especially. They could not afford to lose any more good men. They still had lives to live outside of this apocalypse.
That's what he was looking forward to: Life outside of the forest. Life outside of war itself, God permitted. He could put on his resume that he knew how to fire a gun pretty well and received a nifty medal for it. That would get him a job somewhere in this world, he was sure. As he sat underneath the tree, he wrote out to his family his dreams and plans. He also wrote things he was truly appreciative for as well, luxuries he had been without on while proudly giving his life on the line for a war that did not truly affect his Country. Writing was a way to distract from mostly everything.
"I guess you can say I'm soaked," he stated towards the other male who sat under the tree with him. "That's neither too well nor too bad, I guess you can say. Just mellow, really."
Cass could guess how this individual was feeling. He had already heard the male exclaim his disdain towards the droplets descending the skies. As he lit a cigarette, he chuckled.
"I've just started to write about my plans outside of here. Writing about boats, explosions and the adrenaline of a new day became repetitive. Maybe you don't have to write about anything at all sometimes. Just a letter to let them know you're alive counts, too."
As he smoked his troubles away, he glanced down, brown eyes gazing out towards something inching its way towards them.
"If you want, you can always write about the wild critters," he pointed towards the movement, curious as to if it were a snake, a frog or something else entirely. Either way, he his free hand was reaching for his knife.
His parents were the kind of individuals most in an urban society would scream at, negatively.
"One of my boy's going to war," his mother lauded with joy in front of the local news outlets. His father? Couldn't be any more proud, despite his frantic screams in the night to frequent drinking to forget the trenches of Berlin. So, to be quite exact, Cassidy "Cass" Jordan would head into Vietnam with a sense a patriotic duty for the great glory of America.
That was then. Compared to now, Cass still felt what he was doing was right and even if he didn't, what could he do? He was out in a forest in the middle of foreign land. What would he do? Desert his brothers in arms and flee for the forest for enchanted lust as some of them did? No, he couldn't. He had to push through and be a leader. For their sakes, especially. They could not afford to lose any more good men. They still had lives to live outside of this apocalypse.
That's what he was looking forward to: Life outside of the forest. Life outside of war itself, God permitted. He could put on his resume that he knew how to fire a gun pretty well and received a nifty medal for it. That would get him a job somewhere in this world, he was sure. As he sat underneath the tree, he wrote out to his family his dreams and plans. He also wrote things he was truly appreciative for as well, luxuries he had been without on while proudly giving his life on the line for a war that did not truly affect his Country. Writing was a way to distract from mostly everything.
"I guess you can say I'm soaked," he stated towards the other male who sat under the tree with him. "That's neither too well nor too bad, I guess you can say. Just mellow, really."
Cass could guess how this individual was feeling. He had already heard the male exclaim his disdain towards the droplets descending the skies. As he lit a cigarette, he chuckled.
"I've just started to write about my plans outside of here. Writing about boats, explosions and the adrenaline of a new day became repetitive. Maybe you don't have to write about anything at all sometimes. Just a letter to let them know you're alive counts, too."
As he smoked his troubles away, he glanced down, brown eyes gazing out towards something inching its way towards them.
"If you want, you can always write about the wild critters," he pointed towards the movement, curious as to if it were a snake, a frog or something else entirely. Either way, he his free hand was reaching for his knife.