"This is all Japan's fault, you know that right?" Scuzz looked at me. That wasn't his real name. His parents named him Thomas. That didn't matter to poor ol' Scuzz. Scuzz was born in 1939. Nobody remembers the month or day, not even Scuzz. All we know is his first memory was watching his parents die on a boat during Pearl Harbor in 1941. Scuzz was one of the best marksmen the army had, and that was a rare thing. 
"Scuzz you lazy bastard, stop blaming Japan, pick up your sniper and roll some heads." I smaked him on the back of the head as I spoke. "If you keep blaming this war on Japan I swear to god Hashimo is going to kill you in your sleep." I laughed, looking down the trench to good old Hashimo, still deciphering enemy transmissions. 
Why were we fighting? We didn't know anymore. Nothing divided the two remaining nations of the world. We were comprised of all races, Human, Alien and Hybrid alike. It didn't matter, we were tasked with gaining ground in what used to be the deserts of Africa. Now, it was even more barren of a wasteland. We were the last Squad from the nation of Tower. Tower was based in what used to be Boston Massachusetts. I haven't seen the place in years. 
Squad 5, we were the legendary Rag-tag team that won back parts of Old Florida and Old Texas from our enemies. Squad 5 consisted of about 11 members, but there were 5 of us in the core group. Myself, Brand, the leader and director of the squad. Scuzz, our expert sniper. Born and raised in Hawaii until the war started. Hashimo, the Japanese tech wizard. He was the sole reason we were alive up to this point. Using Ground Penetrating Radar he found clean water to drink. Barnaby, or as we call him, Red Coat, was our scout, and a damn good one. Coming from Britain Red Coat learned how to sneak around the streets without getting caught. Lastly we had Akniial, the Alien. Akniial had a unique ability amongst his kind, rapid regeneration. I had seen him step on a land mine, blow his leg off and watch a new one grow in it's place. Akniial had no limit to his bravery, he would charge into a group of 30 enemies and slaughter every single one with his fists. He preferred light combat over heavy weapons, and I never questioned that. Results were more important than style. 
I had sent the other six members out with Red Coat a few days ago. I hadn't heard anything back until today. Red Coat suddenly came into view, his red jacket stained with a darker red blood. Something bad had happened. He came running into the trench, bending over to catch his breath. He looked into my eyes, fear causing his puils to dilate. "Sir, there are about three thousand of them. Their entire fighting force here in Old Africa, and they are coming to kill us." He paused. "Jackson, Phil, Amy, Paul, Rikshik, Landon...they are all dead." Tears began to roll down his face. I shook my head took a deep breath and looked up over the trench wall. The sound of boots maching filled my ears. It was finally time, time to prove what the top 5 of Squad 5 was made of.