CIAF Pvt. Aaron Dow, North of Jackson, Alabama - 19 December 2061

I wanted to puke.

At this point, we'd given up on pointing the Garands. It was evident that the place was abandoned, but the stench, the stench led us to the most horrifying thing I'd ever seen.

It was indeterminable from the shower rooms in Nazi concentration camps. The bloodstained tiles on the walls, the showerheads, and the worst of all, the markings on the walls that showed where desperate people had tried clawing their way out. The horrifyingly named Camp Dominance was the final resting place of tens of thousands of innocent blacks.

I set the armor to filter out the smell. I couldn't stand it.

I checked the next room over and the sight only worsened. This chamber hadn't even been emptied before the bastards ditched the place. Hundreds of bodies, all innocent black men, women, and children, were crowded around the door that clearly didn't open from the inside.

Now I really wanted to puke.

"Dow?" I heard my CO say as she rounded to corner to see what had stopped me. "My God..." she muttered to herself. I could see her eyes water slightly.

"Yes Captain?" I haphazardly responded.

"Clear out of the building. We've got to deal with the sudden mass surrender."

"What mass surrender?"

"The Khmers apparently took out Birk. The suddies've stopped shooting back since."

"Fantastic." I followed my orders, finding the exit to this horrid place. My thoughts turned to my now useless journey here. The long voyage and violent landing at Mobile. The Spokane had been comfortable compared to the meager accommodations we had been provided during our occupation. Two weeks we'd stayed in Mobile, suppressing the last of the suddies' guerrillas before finding this nightmare further north.

It took two hands to count how many times I'd been within a meter of death. A missed shell, a missed shot, the IED I didn't activate.

I hope Jack's okay.

My brother, in the air service, had been doing bombing runs for most of the campaign. Alongside the Americans, it was an easy task to suppress the suddies' meager resistance. But some of the planes had gone down nonetheless.

As I exited the building, the press were waiting. A bunch of Americans, Canadians, Europeans, Cascadians, and Heartlanders were waiting around with cameras, begging to be let in. The platoon in charge of guarding the place was under strict orders to keep them out for now, so they rushed towards me.

"Sir! What's in there? How bad is it?" The reporter sounded like a Hearlander. As several cameras trained themselves on me, I thought of something to say.

It was then that I finally puked.