It was a peaceful night in June.
I was stationed with my platoon
on the unnamed planet’s unnamed moon.
I knew that just over that dune,
we would meet our doom.
Jimmy—I called him "Goon"—
he and I shared a room.
He was laughing like a loon
at some silly kid’s cartoon.
It wasn’t fair: he was only twenty-two.
I grimly stared at my fading tattoo.
Remembered things I didn’t want to get into.
We were supposed to advance the following afternoon.
The dusty, rocky ground would be covered with human maroon
and alien blue.