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Papua, the Floors of Hell do not look so awful, I reloaded my rifle and surveyed the scene. A squad of Indo infantry rushed my position and I stopped it with 3 bursts from my weapon. The survivors buried their faces in the war churned earth as I loosed one more long burst into where I thought they might be. A long, piercing scream accompanied the sound of the bullets hitting their mark and I smiled to myself. Two more down, one left, I thought.

My twelve o' clock was a mess, it was a junkyard of Indo leftovers, I'd been killing them wholesale, on and off, for weeks. They'd spill 50 gallons of blood for one yard of terrain. How I hated them, my oldest enemy,now so pathetic. A lifetime ago they had been a superpower, the Eaters of the Dead, now I could take them 10 at a time with naught but my Bowie knife.

Pussies. I shrugged off that weak train of thought and focused on the last two Indos alive in my sector. They were face down in the muck and shivering. I ordered them to stand up and they complied, both a quivering mess, I laughed.

"May Dio have pity on you." I stopped their misery with a quick burst of the trigger. It was over, Papua was still American, I smiled and laughed as I headed back to my Honai.