The following would be entries written by Ryan Vesrt, an active member of the USCM who is currently 20 years old. August 22 My name is Ryan Vesrt. Son of Patrick and Mary Vesrt. My 18th birthday is soon... But there will be no celebration or party. That's because as soon as I hit 18, I'm going straight out of town with my friend, [Redacted], to sign up for the Marine Corps. It ran in the family. My family is full of military veterans who have served this country. I was determined to have my picture up on the wall. In my house, there's a wall with pictures of my grandfather, father, older brother, all who have served. "Is there anything I can do for you before you go? " My mom had said worriedly. I wasn't going to ask her to put my picture up on that wall however. Not yet. I remember the conversation with my dad. He had this serious look that I recognized. Dad never told us much about his military career besides some stories about getting drunk with his friends but I'm pretty sure he saw some bad stuff out there. " Ryan, " my dad said. His facial expressions were tensed and made him look older than he was. "When you're over there, just make sure - " He stopped. "If things ever get too-" He stopped again. "Don't think too much." He says finally. " Just do what you need to do. " I knew he was stressed out. My older brother died fighting in World War 3. But dad was the one who gave me this journal. I thought it was stupid. What was I going to do? Write my "feelings" in here? I didn't think that I would have the time to write. Dad made me promise to write back to mom as often as I could though. My dad is right. Maybe I do think too much. My sister is calling. Gotta go. August 25 "Well, this is it." I had said when I arrived at the base with [Redacted]. The base was fucking huge and you had these buff guys glaring back at you and joking with their friends. Glad I have [Redacted] with me. We joined together so that we would always have each other's backs. "I'm gonna shoot 50 of those freakish mother fuckers(aliens). " [Redacted] bragged. Sometimes, I feel that the guy would rather hit somebody than eat. He was serious though. That's [Redacted] for you. September 17 Marine training was hell. I bet one of you couldn't take three drill instructors yelling at you in gibberish right in your face without passing out in fear. I turned down three fucking football scholarships to join the marines. I wasn't about to give up. You wanna play ball? Suck it up and get out there. I was the new guy though. Most of the veterans just called me boot and left me alone. I learned that the easiest way to get by was to keep your head down, and your mouth shut. Of course I had to learn that the hard way after 10,000000000000 pushups back in Parris Island. Me and [Redacted] finally passed training though. We achieved our dreams of becoming a United States Marine. December 21 Got deployed in [Redacted] with [Redacted]. I'm just itching to get into some of the action. A guy in my platoon was saying that you only have to be in [Redacted] for 10 minutes to realize that you should've never gotten out of the plane, gone through boot camp, or signed up in the first place. But you think you'll hear me whining about it? Never happen doggie. I'm a marine. Semper Fi, man. We love this stuff. War for breakfest, lunch, dinner, and a little more thrown for a midnight snack. Eating and writing near my bunny hole while leaning against some sand bags at the moment with the rest of my squad. My squad finally accepted the fact about me writing a book. Anyways, bunny holes are lil trenches that we dig around the field. Things get too heated? Jump right in a fellow marine's bunny hole for cover. The food here isn't too pleasant. If I was still home right now, my mom would be cooking us a huge feast. Here, we have mashed potatoes in some plastic containers, lukewarm turkey, gravy, and some rolls. Planes are flying over me right now and they're real fucking loud. December 22 You know, I don't even know what to write in this journal anymore. My dad tried to convince me to take it by saying "Think of it as something your sister might want to read some day." My sister always had her nose in some book 24/7. In the bathroom, while brushing her teeth, you name it. She's a smart kid though. Anyways, what do I write? 1. I was born in California 2. My parents named me Ryan 3. I got older 4. I started playing football 5. Now I'm here. Any questions? No, I didn't think so. Wonder if I'd get an A for that in high school. Probably not. Most likely another C. The english teachers would put some comments like "More details!", "Lazy Ryan, see me after class." Well, breaks over. Time to get back to patrol. December 31 [Redacted] is dead. We got ambushed by the fuckers. Some mother fucking idiot brought on one of them on board the ship. Some of the mercenaries are still here. I can't write too much right now... I'm still in shock. I should be dead right now. It all happened so fast. This journal... it saved me. Stopped the bullet from going straight into my heart the medic has said. [Redacted] didn't have much luck. He stepped right onto a mine and was blown to bits with a few others before I could even blink. Adding the bullet to my dog tag necklace. The price I have to pay.
Pages and entries would now be labeled with the entry number rather than the dates This particular entry, is scrawled hastily and the handwriting is rushed. Entry #7 So I guess this is all real now. The broadcasts from televisions weren't a lie. It's happening. All of united states and more affected. Reports of casualties, numerous deaths, more than I would like to write down in this very journal. Safe haven non existant. Nada. Resorting to the final resort: board the mother ships and take the fleet out of earth. Earth. Left for destruction. My family, they're smart people. Dad will make sure my family gets to the ships safe. As for the marines. We're moving. But we'll be the last ones to leave. Every possible survivor WILL be rescued and we'll stand in front of the very gates of hell and chaos to ensure that each civie gets on that ship and flies out safely. Oorah. Probably the last Oorah and semper fi i'll be writing.
