World War Z
They let us sleep as late as we wanted the next day. That was pretty sweet. Eventually the voices woke me up; everyone jawing, laughing, telling stories. It was a different vibe, one-eighty from two days ago. I couldnt really put a finger on what I was feeling, maybe it was what the president said about reclaiming our future. I just knew I felt good, better than I had the entire war. I knew it was gonna be a real, long-ass road. I knew our campaign across America was just beginning, but, hey, as the prez said later that first night, it was finally the beginning of the end. — World War Z war When the last broadcast came from Buenos Aires, when that famous Latin singer played that Spanish lullaby, it was too much for one of our operators. He wasn’t from Buenos Aires, he wasn’t even from South America. He was just an eighteen-year-old Russian sailor who blew his brains out all over his instruments. He was the first, and since the end of the war, the rest of the IR operators have followed suit. Not one of them is alive today. The last was my Belgian friend. “You carry those voices with you,” he told me one morning. We were standing on the deck, looking into that brown haze, waiting for a sunrise we knew we’d never see. “Those cries will be with me the rest of my life, never resting, never fading, never ceasing their call to join them.” — World War Z life Did you see the movie, the one Elliot made about us? That scene with the campfire and the grunts all jawing in this witty dialogue, the stories and the dreams for the future, and even that guy with the harmonica. Dude, it was so not like that. First of all, it was the middle of the day, no campfires, no harmonica under the stars, and also everyone was really quiet. You knew what everyone was thinking though, What the hell are we doing here? This was Zacks house now, and as far as we were concerned, he could have it. Wed all had plenty of pep talks about The Future of the Human Spirit. Wed seen the presidents speech God knows how many times, but the prez wasnt out here on Zacks front lawn. We had a good thing going behind the Rockies. What the hell were we doing out here? — World War Z god Two hundred million zombies. Who can even visualize that type of number, let alone combat it? At least this time around we knew what we were combating, but when you added up all the experience, all the data wed compiled on their origin, their physiology, their strengths, their weaknesses, their motives, and their mentality, it still presented us with a gloomy prospect for victory. The book of war, the one weve been writing since one ape slapped another, was completely useless in this situation. We had to write a new one from scratch. — World War Z writing Attack. When I first heard that word, my gut reaction was, oh shit. Does that surprise you? Of course it does. You probably expected the brass to be just champing at that bit, all that blood and guts, hold em by the nose while we kick em in the ass crap. I dont know who created the stereotype hard-charging, dim-witted, high school football coach of a general officer. Maybe it was Hollywood, or the civilian press, or maybe we did it to ourselves, by allowing those insipid, egocentric clowns- the MacArthurs and Halseys and Curtis E. LeMays- to define our image to the rest of the country. Point is, thats the image of those in uniform, and it couldnt be further from the truth. — World War Z truth
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