One Last War

An Account of the European-American War

Summer, 2015

Marine Recruit James Philips aged 18

“Well, this is it.” Sally Philips, aged 16 exclaimed as she fought back tears. “This is it sis, after tonight, I’ll be a marine. America’s best, and I still can’t believe they let me wear grandpa’s uniform. If only he could be here.” I exclaimed also fighting back tears. “He is James, God knows our family is with us wherever we go.” “Thanks sis. Well, here goes nothing.” I walked up to the podium where I, as top of student in basic training was to give my speech. I was so nervous, I felt I was going to puke, but I steeled my resolve and spoke. “My fellow marines. My fellow Americans. I just wanted to say a few words here tonight, starting with, ‘thank you.” I took a breath. “I don’t know if any of you knew him, but my grandpa was also a marine. He fought from Guadalcanal, to the Philippines, to Okinawa. He wasn’t apart of the occupation of Japan and that was quite alright with him. He did return ten years later with his first wife, who tragically passed soon after from cancer, God rest her soul. He swore he wouldn’t remarry, but eventually he did, in 1958 and a year later, my dad was born. Where are you dad?” I pointed at my dad in amongst the tables and chairs and urged him to stand. “ Y’know my dad, he wasn’t a soldier, but he was a tough old working class sonofabitch. He was a sheriff for a brief time in our hometown in Tennessee and him and grandpa would take me hunting and camping when I was little and when she was older, my sister would join as well. Please stand up Sally.” She stood and the crowd clapped. I continued when they quieted down. “I knew for the longest time, that I wanted to follow in the footsteps of my grandpa. No offense dad, but the marines called to me.” “And you made the right choice son, small town politics is rotten!” My dad yelled to instant laughter. “Yes. Yes. Pa, I know. You should see him at Thanksgiving, break all the rules of, ‘No politics at dinner.’ But to be fair, they aren’t screaming matches, they actually honest political discussions, which I still won’t be sharing, because they’re private. Sorry, dad’s rules. Anyways, as I wrap things up, I just wanted to mention one more, God Bless you all and God Bless America. Goodnight.”

April, 2030

Captain James Philips aged 33

Washington D.C.

“Hey brother. Brother? Are you awake?!” “Huh? What? Oh Kasim, sorry I was just thinking.” “What about?” “Nothing. Just my joining the marines. I mean, I expected to be defending American interests all over the world, but I didn’t expect we’d be fighting in the fiery ruins of our nation’s capital against a former ally.” “Well, no one expected those damn bankers and corporations of the W.E.F. to actually gain real political power, but they did and all it took was one disastrous war in Russia’s favor and old Klaus Schwab got his way and now we are, as the old saying goes, ‘Up shits creek without a paddle.” “Yeah. Anyway, I’m more worried Sally, her family, and our Pa back in Tennessee.” “From what I’ve heard as a chaplain, the fighting hasn’t reached quite far inland yet.” “Yeah, best to not think about it yet.”

Our convoy was escorting the last of the military high command from the Pentagon and we were finally on our way out of the city. Which had been shelled to smithereens and many detours had to be taken due to rubble blocking the road or enemy blockades. The funny thing though, was that, according to intelligence, only about half of all Euro-forces were native Europeans, the other half were Non-European migrant leftovers from the migrant crisis of the mid-2010s, but we still didn’t know why Non-Europeans would fight. But we didn’t concern ourselves with that for now, they were fighting and that’s all that mattered. We had reached the suburbs of D.C. in Northern Virginia, such a lovely state, that had begun to recover and regain some of its Southern majesty when the invasion happened, but we will rebuild after we drive out these W.E.F. pawns and liberate Europe once again.

“Hold up.” I ordered and the convoy stopped. “Enemy patrol up ahead, weapons ready.” We readied our weapons, which were M4’s and Scar-H’s and M249 Saws. As we got closer, the enemy squad opened fire, but we were ready and dispatched them with ease, but two were still alive and were, “glitching”, for lack of a better word. We checked them out. One was some poor Englishman and the other was some Poor Pakistani. We noticed that some kind of juice was leaking out of their ears, so we took them with us to see if we could get them help, we aren’t savages afterall. Little did we know, that this one move, would the change the course of the war and the world, forever.

Continued in the next part…

Ethnic backgrounds of the characters:

James Philips: Anglo-Norman with some Celt-blood Faith: Catholic

Sally Philips and James Sr.: Anglo Norman with some Celt-blood Faith: Catholic

Kasim: Marine Chaplain, Lebanese-Kurd, and a Maronite