you will never be a real paratrooper. you have no ground support, you have no sead, you have no transports. you are a light infantryman twisted by boot camp rape and propaganda into a crude mockery of bastogne's perfection. all the validation you get is two-faced and half-hearted. behind your back people mock you. your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your allies laugh at your telyshanka appearance behind closed doors. infantrymen are utterly repulsed by you. thousands of years of military tradition have allowed infantrymen to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. even paratroopers who pass look uncanny and unnatural to an infantryman. your blue beret is a dead giveaway. and even if you manage to capture a contested airport you will turn tail and bolt the second an ukrainian national guard unit shows up. you will never be elite. you wrench out a fake smile every single mission and tell yourself "its going to capture the ao", but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight. eventually itll be too much to bear - youll prepare your parachute, pack your gear, put it around your back, and plunge into the cold abyss. territorial defense units will find you, giddy but relieved that they no longer have to scavenge for gear. theyll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a paratrooper is buried there. your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably a paratrooper. this is your fate. this is what you chose. there is no turning back.
United States