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I was bored while listening to the song "Toy Soldier" and insperation hit me. This is just part of it, I'll post more if anyone is interested.

Sergeant Leon Martika looked up at the huge red and white machine that towered over him as he ran. Ninety millimeter shell casing rained down on them and he was careful to avoid the falling shells. He looked over his shoulder to make sure his team was still behind him. Three soldiers carrying rifles charged behind him, one had a meter and a half long missile launcher slung across his back, and the other two carried three missiles each. Another mobile suit landed ahead of them and opened fire with its rifle as well. The thunder was of the rifles was deafening and the ringing in his ears made it even harder to hear the radio signals from the rest of the platoon.
A hundred and twenty millimeter shell from an enemy suit crashed into the ground in next to them and exploded. All four of the soldiers dived to the ground as dirt rained down on them, and something else. Leon cringed as he saw the dark red blood speckle his white winter camouflage. He looked over to where the shell had hit. It was impossible to tell there had once been an armored personnel carrier there, it was just a crater and twisted wreckage now. He ducked his head into the snow, letting it chill his face, and swallowed the urge to vomit. He forced himself to his feet and commanded his hands to stop shaking.
“Monsters…” He murmured, looking up at one of the huge mobile suits and turned back to his team. “Everyone move out!”
They did as commanded, and the four started running toward their assigned objective yet again. A pair of tanks raced past their flanks, staggering fire from their twin hundred and fifty millimeter main guns. The tanks were top of the line models able to stand up the suits if used correctly, but there were already shortages of experienced crews for the machines. The tanks made it a few hundred meters past them before a missile struck the side of the leader and blew through the lighter side armor, killing its crew instantly.
“Conventional contacts sighted, engaging!” The words came though the radio multiple times as the infantry met enemy soldiers. Leon heard himself yell it as well as he opened fire with his rifle. He could see the enemies that had destroyed the tank, and through his peripheral vision, he saw the other tank explode from MS fire. He hit the ground as return fire whizzed past his skull. He centered an enemy soldier in the digital video sight mounted to his rifle and pulled the trigger. The three rounds left the camber so fast that it sounded like a single shot and he saw his target go down.
I’ve never killed anyone before. He told himself. He shook himself and took aim again. The enemy was moving, and there were plenty of them, at least two full squads. He fired repeatedly, as did his comrades, but for every one they killed two more returned fire. Then he heard a sound he had feared more then anything else since they landed. A feminine scream sounded next to him and he turned, seeing one of the missile carriers go down. She was the youngest of his squad and the only woman in the entire platoon. The bullet had lacerated her neck, knocking her from her crouching position, and severing her carotid artery. He watched the young girl bleed to death as she held her neck, struggling to stem the torrent of blood.
He knew he couldn’t have done anything to help her, not in a firefight and with that kind of injury, but he hated himself for not trying. What was he doing out here? He wasn’t a soldier; he was a programmer conscripted to fight a meaningless war. All he wanted to do was write software, but now he had killed. Not only had he killed the “enemy”, but a girl almost half his age, by not trying to help her.
Let the spacenoids have their freedom. He told himself, he looked at the two remaining soldiers under his command. They were lying next to him, still firing. They knew what they were fighting for, maybe. He swallowed hard, opened fire again, and called for a medical team to recover the girl. The girl, he didn’t even know her name. More enemy soldiers converged on them, and he felt a round ricochet off his helmet. He knew they were outmatched.
“This is sergeant Martika; we’re heavily outnumbered, requesting support.” He spoke more calmly into his radio then he would have ever thought he could, and maintained his fire.
“Confirmed Sergeant, help is on the way.” The voice didn’t come with the sounds of death the others did. The background noise was almost nonexistent, serenity he could hardly remember. He noticed positional data downloading from his eyepiece, then nothing. He swapped his rifle’s clip for a fresh one and took aim again, and then, his world exploded.

They don't, you have to manually space it.

Yeah, I know, it sucks like that.


Very nice btw.