Author's Note: This ends on a cliffhanger. I tried for about a month to figure how to end this but a friend suggested it just end where I had it, so I did. I'll leave it to you - the reader - how the story will end. Out of my shorts though I consider this my worst.

My eyes darted left and right as me and my men tracked through the mud and grass of South West Germany - the one place in the world considered by soldiers and civilians alike as “a true hell”. No one wants to be in this “place”. Not me, not my men, not even the natives.

We were miles away from France which is now secure, we were right in the border of France and Germany; we were miles away from the battle up North that the superiors are calling “The Battle of the Bulge”. Our orders were to do just as everyone else who wasn’t German was doing: get to Berlin. Our orders on a more precise level are to link up with another squad that’s doing the same as we are; going around the “Battle of the Bulge” and then go strait for Berlin, Germany. The word is that the Russians are almost there. And the US generals for some reason don’t want the Russians to get there before us, the generals want the US to get at least part of the credit for the fall of Berlin, Germany.

Before we set out, I was talking to some of my friends in the squad I was in previously. They all told me the same thing; that the mission I was ordered to do was insane and or suicide. And with all honesty; I wasn’t and I’m most certainly not now to thrilled or honored to do this mission, and I’m betting good money that my men are not to thrilled either.

Cause what’s the point? Two miniature squads entering Berlin with no back-up what-so-ever isn’t going to do much! Hell, who knows if even the two squads will even make it to meet each other. We have little supplies, both in the food and the ammunition departments. Maybe it was something we did? Did we do something the higher-ups didn’t like or approve? Who knows? It’s pretty much proven FACT that we’re going to die out here! THAT’S IT! That’s the reason to it! We must of found something out or they suspect we did so they’ve sent us on a hopeless mission to silence us!

I spun around to face my men – I was their commander, they know when I face them I’m about to lay the orders down; and that’s what I did. I told them we’re going back to Allied controlled land. Of course they didn’t question why. As we then began to turn back one of the men approached me. “Sir, I believe I speak for everyone else in the squad when I ask why are we headed back?”

I turned my head towards the private. Why is he questioning my orders now? Is he a sort of spy by the superiors? No matter. “Wanna know WHY we’re heading back?” I said. “We’re heading back to France because we have insufficient amount of supplies and the mission is impossible, and why the hell are YOU questioning MY orders …private?!”

He gave me a face I am not familiar with, but he for some odd reason raised his pistol and aimed it at me. “What the fuck is this private?! This is mutiny!” I yelled at him but he retaliated; “No, what YOU are doing is mutiny, sir! Have you forgotten the mission? We are to scout the area and meet up with delta squad then to attempt to link up with the main forces.”

I smiled. “Are you absolutely SURE? I think that the military considers us of no use and expendable. So they sent us on a mission that bound for failure.”

“And I think our mission is of the up-most importance, SIR!” he yelled as he tightened his grip on the pistol.