I swear, I hate my life. Even the lowly Marines have a better chance of survival than me and my comrades. I put my transfer in two months ago for infantry, and all that I've heard from Command is "We need all the Dropship pilots we can muster. Sorry kid, you're stuck where you are."
Damn them all. I hate piloting that rickety piece of junk that everyone calls a Dropship. The Confederacy expects us to fly into a hot-zone and drop-off troops, armor, and equipment, and fly back to base without getting our asses shot to holy hell. I'd like to take some general out on a flight into those "hot-zones." I think General Duke would love to take one of those flights. Let him see first hand what crap HQ puts us through.
If you haven't already noticed, I hate being a Dropship pilot; although I write that in every entry, I just can't help but stress it everyday. Every day, I fly the same "perfectly good, serviceable aircraft" into places that would, quaintly put, make you shit your pants. As I fly off after dropping my load, I see Marines emptying clip-after-clip of ammo.
I sit there in the cockpit watching the events down below unfold, and think to myself, "God that must be fun."
Every other dropship pilot that I have come across wishes to God that they were part of the Infantry Division. Granted that death is something that none of us look forward to, but it just entices myself, and others just like me, to go down in a blazing glory.
Not only does all the action entice me, but everyday I have to put up with Squad Commanders constantly yelling down my throat. "C'mon dammit!! We were supposed to be at the landing zone yesterday..."
"This clunker is going as fast as it can. So just sit down and shut up. You want me to be like yo' mommy and threaten to turn this piece-o-crap around?! We can turn around and go back ya know..."
Whenever I tell them that, I can tell that they just have an urge to smack me senseless. Then, I sometimes get the urge to just rip those guys apart every time they yell at me. I can stand being given orders and such, but being shouted at from 30 directions, to hell with it (become a dropship pilot, then you'll know what I'm talking about); I can't take it anymore.
I guess tomorrow I'll add yet another transfer to the countless that I've submitted already. I know its just gonna get rejected like the rest, but it's worth a shot. Who knows, my transfer might even be approved. If that happens, I'm gonna go straight to my buddies and just start pointing fingers at them and shouting "I'm outta here guys!! Sail your ship anywhere but my direction. I'm going to front-line infantry!!"
***
--The next day--
Well, I've submitted my request about 4 hours ago and… hold on a sec; I got a reply. Lets see here, it reads:
To Whom it May Concern,
'Oh great, this can't be good if it's addressed like this'
We are sorry to inform you that due to the overwhelming requests for Infantry, your request for transfer has been denied. Sorry. Thank you for your time.
Graciously,
Commander Joseph "Viper" Snakes
Infantry Recruiting Officer
Well shit...I can't say that I'm not surprised, to say the least. Well, I guess its back to that ol' flying tin can of mine.
Lets see...my orders today are...oh great. Well, it looks as if I'm on my way to Char. Apparently, the Confederacy is going to attempt to kill the Overmind. And worst of all, I have to go in and drop off troops near the primary hive cluster; sounds like loads of fun. HQ must think that I'm here for their own amusement. Well, I'm going to end this journal entry right here. God willing, this will be my last entry; I hate my life, and I want it to end.
Warrant Officer James Simek
I.D. Number 254.727.8932
