Not really fan fiction, but i likez it.
Two thousand soldiers marched through the muck and mud in Central America. Rain pattered against their helmets and shoulder pads, sinking into their clothes and chilling them to the bone.
They marched in squads of 20, in 4x5 blocks. The muddy water sloshed around their boots, and they left deep footprints in the soft earth. Storm clouds rumbled overhead and released their relentless torrent upon the field. In their heads, the soldiers grumbled at the situation, but their thoughts had no affect on their actions. They marched forward; for their families, for their friends.
One soldier pulled his left hand from his guns muzzle to push his glasses farther up his nose. They slipped slowly back down on his rain-slick face. He marched on.
One soldier flicked on his helmet flashlight, but all it did was illuminate the rain and darkness. An NCO yelled for him to turn it off, and he quickly did so. He marched on.
One soldier, a sniper, loaded his rifle and sighted down its length. He was flanked by two close-quarter guards, who guided his step as he aimed at the enemy. He stood in a line, with other eight other long-range specialists, and clicked off his safety. He fired. He marched on.
These two thousand soldiers marched through the muck and mud that was now up to their shins. Some of the higher ranking officials wore full-body suits, with built in heaters and health monitors. Unfortunately, they would be the first to go. They marched on.
A battle raged overhead. Explosions could be seen through the thick clouds. Fighter Jets flew above the clouds, sending bursts of missiles at the distant enemy. Wreckage occasionally rained down in the forests surrounding the soldiers.
The soldiers marched forward. Their nation depended on it.
Bullets whizzed over their heads. Some ducked, some remained upright. Their leaders moved forward steadily.
For their families; for their friends. They marched on.