Armed. No it was more than that, armed to the $#&@ing teeth was possibly more
apt a description, and the civilians this war surrounded played no real part
apart from being there, which I suppose is a part in itself.

It's all around, it's all consuming, a chasm, an abyss that sucks you in, be it
active or passive, be it soldier or slave, the fog of war engulfs you all.
You've never seen rain like this before, had to cut the heels out of your boots

just so the water could drain, so the blisters
could drain, as any compassion for humanity drains. At least when the rain falls
it keeps the mosquitoes away, not much of a

trade-off really, fiendish things lusting for your blood while bullets sizzle
through the air leaving a trail of mist as the
molten lead homes in on its pray. And that's you by the way, and you're caught

up in the fog of war
It's a world beyond fear, you can't even see the enemy, although you're learning
to sense them, sense the presence, smell the

adrenaline or the fear, because you know, that they know, that you know
And you'll never rest, not here, not now, possibly never, for this battle will
rage on eternally (at least for some of you). And sure, the rain will stop

eventually,
but the fog surrounds the soldier forever.