"We all want to go to war,

We all want to go to war,

Coz we are going to even the score.

Coz we are going to even the score.

Sound off,

One, two.

I can't here you,

Three, Four.

Sound off one two, three four..."

My mind drifted off as they continued singing. I was starring out into the forest-like scenery, watching the rain drops falling onto the trees and rolling off all the leaves. It was the same every morning; the alarms would sound at four in the morning, we would be dressed and standing at attention in three minutes-flat (with beds made), and we would then run seven miles before breakfast. And if someone even opened their mouths without being ordered to, we would be running fourteen!

I've been here for almost eighteen months and I can honestly say that it's pure hell! Every morning when I hear that dreaded alarm, I cringe, awakening from my oasis called sleep. But it really is an oasis. In my dreams I can get away from the reality of it all, the suicide camp as I like to call it. In sleep, I can be who I want to be, say what I want to say, and do what I want to do. But at exactly four am every morning, I am quickly snapped back into the world of horror, the world they like to call 'the army'.

When that alarm sounds, it is like the base is full of mechanical robots. Everyone has become well drilled at the three-minute wake-up. No-one has time to think, so it's just done. But it's when we're out here, running, that we are able to do our thinking. Troopers learn to lose themselves in the seven-mile runs, it just becomes natural and you can slowly put your mind in another place. You keep singing of course, I wouldn't like to imagine what would happen to you if you didn't! But you learn to do it - it's the only way to survive. It's the only time you can think, the rest of the day is full of life-threatening activities and training that requires your complete concentration. And when you hit your bed, you grab as much sleep as you possibly can, because you are going to need it.

I often think, when I'm out here running, about why I joined the corps. Most of the other men are gun-hungry demolition psychos, who only ever think about putting his gun into a Charlie's mouth and feeling the cold metal against his hand whilst pulling the trigger back! I failed school, so my parent's plans for me completing my honours at university quickly disappeared. I wasn't good at anything, well nothing that payed anyway. I couldn't get a job, not even an interview! I tried though, I tried so bloody hard but I was never 'the right man for the job'. My mother would nag be every day about it, but she just didn't understand. My father was ever-gloating about it, he'd always known that I was a no-hoper and I think he gained satisfaction in being right. I think that's probably the main reason I joined; to show my father that I wasn't useless or a failure, but I often wondered myself. Funny that, I'm not good at anything, so I decide to defend my country.

I suddenly realised what the world was all about, and this smile came out of nowhere right across my face. It hurt too, because I hadn't smiled in almost three years! I finally had an answer, and I knew what I was doing - I was going to be alright.

When I got back to my quarters that morning, I still had that smile across my face. I layed my uniform out across my bed, full dress of course, with my special-issue silver-plated pistol beside it. Tonight I would join sleep with freedom, and my dreams would be forever!