Alright guys. I am here to show you the difference between effort, and... the opposite of effort.
The new (and not permanent) text:
When the beaches loom into view, a feeling of terror jolts you into reality. Nervousness numbs your rational thinking, and now the emotions begin to pour out.
As you glance around at your comrades, you realize that not every man would return, if any. It was a one way mission for many of you, and the rest would be given the so much more responsibility. Looking around, you silently thank every single soldier sitting in front of you. Private Gordon. Private Dunlin. Sergeant Mark Hale. These men are your allies. Your brothers in arms.
Every man on this craft had a story to tell, but the thing is, that not every story will survive. It was up to the willpower and their courage and sheer luck if they were to survive. And they knew it.
As time ticked away, and the beaches grew in size, you reach into your pocket, your fingers wrapping around a single sheet of paper. Unwrapping it, you read the lines, even though you've already memorized the whole letter. When the last words are read, tears blind your vision, giving everything a blurry look. You wipe the tears from your eyes, as the landing craft jets through the ocean.
"Team!" Captain Hale addresses you. Out of all the things he could've called you, he had settled on simply 'team.' "Not all of you are going to return today. But know that those who do return, will carry the fallen on our backs until the end. We will carry on your legacy! Think about the women and children back home. You are fighting for them. You are fighting for your country. You are fighting for yourself!"
He pauses, leaving only the sound of waves crashing against the landing craft.
"You have two choices today: To fight here today alongside your brothers, or to hide in the shadows, and watch all of your brothers get killed. It is time to fight!" As he finishes, a serene feeling falls over the men.
During the war that would take years to be resolved, it had taken only mere seconds for the soldiers to find their peace.
The original text:
The moment the bullet pierced through the soldier's head, you lower yourself onto the floor of the landing craft. Around you, the other soldiers are hiding next to the walls and the floors, as bullets rained upon you and your comrades, mostly ricocheting off of the metal walls, but sometimes, they hit an unsuspecting soldier. Off into the distance, explosions were going off, setting the true setting of the situation. Your fingers are wrapped tightly around the body of your M1 Carbine, though your hands are trembling.
You glance around at your comrades, each and everyone having a story, yet not every man in this craft will return home. You pull out a letter from your pocket, and scan the words once more, before you step out of this vehicle.. When you read the last words, a tear sprouts from your eye. You wipe the tear, as you scan the faces of your brothers around you. All of them have a hard face on, not knowing what was going to happen next.
All of a sudden, the landing craft jerks, then shudders violently, before coming to a stop. Every soldier wishes good luck, before the door to the craft opens, revealing everyone to the deadly weapons of the enemy.
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