Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Serve.
Proper Bearing
The heat of the parking garage enveloped the Marines. Lance Corporal Stevenson Swinton worked his biceps, his triceps, his tapezius, his core. Sweat dropped like shell casings from a M240. Other lance corporals and corporals operated in similar fashion. Every move remained swift and precise. The idea was to get buff, sure. But the real reason behind all of this lifting, squatting, pressing, and yes sweating was to be the best Body Bearers. Swinton dropped the two hundred and twenty five pound bar on the bench press. He looked up at his platoon guide. A smirk found its way onto his face.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
Potential Terrorist
"Safeties off, lads." I tilted the assault rifle towards the left and turned the small notch at the rear end. "The building at 12 o' clock is our zero ground. It is the base of all terrorist activities that has been going on. We have orders to shoot on sight. Now, Mark and Ryan, you flank from the left. Me and Connor will bang through the front. Godspeed. Let's move."
By Subham Das6 years ago in Serve
That Others May Live
"That Others May Live" that is the motto of the United States Air Force Pararescue Team. These guys are bad MFs who won't stop until the mission is done and lives have been saved. They are without a doubt the most elite Special Forces Unit in the Nation and perhaps the world.
By Dominic Berning6 years ago in Serve
Master Sergeant Rolls
The building looked like any office space. Instead of cubicles, just a few desks and computers occupied the area. The corporals, Cortland Carras and Samantha Hillinger sniggered. Only to themselves, however. They dared not let the gunny or staff sergeant see them laughing at the uniform of the Marine that outranked all of them in the room. Master Sergeant Kent Kipton wore the same digiprint camouflage uniform as the others. He pressed it and affixed his insignia in the proper places. The master sergeant’s sleeves caught the corporals’ attention. They looked like two flat monster truck tires rolled up just past his elbow. They looked like two soggy donuts approaching his upper arm.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
They Will Not Be Home for Supper. Top Story - November 2019.
My torn coat flaps in the vicious breeze as I walk slowly back home, my four year old brother running and skipping ahead, oblivious to our suffering. Pain shoots through my empty belly as I jolt and shake with each jagged step. My skin feels burnt, despite the cold, as I stride to what I humbly call my home. Disappointment reddens my face every time I walk the broken garden path to my front door. The door is dull and weathered, the lock all but broken. My sunken eyes blur as I notice the torn curtains and empty closets. I check for letters then hurry inside to start dinner for my little brother. My father is in the army. He will not be back for supper. I pour water into an iron pot and open the pantry door. I stare at the same thing I stare at every day. Nothing. I stifle a sob, not wanting the carefree nature of my brother to be corrupted by my hopelessness. My mother is dead. She was shot protecting the daughter of two complete strangers. The fruits of a country too long at war. She will not be home for supper.
By Chantell Fourie6 years ago in Serve
'Midway' Review
Today I had just seen the movie Midway and I have to say that it was such a good movie. I mean, it shows about another part of the Second World War that happened between the US and Japan. The battle that happened there I didn’t even remember learning about in school. All I remember about is Pearl Harbor and how horrific it was and how many people had lost their lives that day and it was completely sad. I mean, many people are still buried in the Arizona till this day since there wasn’t any way that they could get out of there.
By Katherine M.6 years ago in Serve
Hatred Dies in the Funniest of Ways
I was seven years old when I had met nine-year-old Aubrey. He had been quite large for his age and had possessed both the eyes and nasal voice of a frustrated character. He was the type of person to be hated and avoided by everyone both inside and outside of school since he had been the kind of person to push and shove those who he had seen as beneath himself, which had included me. Flocks of students would either hurry out of his way or wait for Aubrey to pass by. No one could ever see themselves loving someone so deviant, until he had found me. He would always be there waiting for me beneath the darkest of alleyways, behind the tallest of hedges and hidden within the most confined corners of the school. As Aubrey was large for his age and I had been small for mine, I established great difficulty in pursuing gangs of people that had been classified as being “my kind,” which had only encouraged me to keep myself around a dictator like Aubrey. He had enjoyed being feared by others and had craved mercy from them, as though there had been a new God dominating over every human being including myself. As time had flown by, Aubrey had remained out of sight and had vanished from the town, but never seemed to do so from my mind, as though he had taken over me completely; it was though I hadn’t gone a day without him. The memories of Aubrey had only grown stronger and steadier, keeping his essence alive and present to me every waking day. My hatred for him had only grown more fierce and had no intention of ever stopping. At this point in time, I was part taking in the Vimy Ridge battle and had been the only one left within my company. The entire day had consisted of giving and receiving specialized orders from other sergeants as to when fights were to be scheduled to begin and where they would take place when these battles had occurred. Unfortunately, this had been a day that both the civilization and myself would never find the competence to suppress, a memory so self-consuming that only intends to continue to remain and haunt me for the rest of my days. Waking up to the sights of spewing, grey fog and clashes of bombs striking both opposing sides had ignited a spark inside me; it was time. Dashing over mudslides and the engulfed burrows that had been made within the earth, I had found myself sliding feet first into a huge crater, swallowing my body whole.
By emily Silveira6 years ago in Serve
The Blood Lesson
Steady knocks of the ping pong ball on the table tennis table nearly lulled Lance Corporals Ellis Firth and Justison Haley into a stupor. Rather than a vigorous game of back and forth, the match seemed listless, dull. But the conversation remained energetic.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
How I Became an Army Ranger Sniper
It was a hot summer that year, 110 degrees in the shade. We were doing training exercises in South Carolina. Digging foxholes, setting up our tents, and making sure our battle ready laser tag systems were on. Four battalions getting ready for war for and with each other. I get my foxhole ready, my tent is up, and I'm bored. What's a soldier to do?
By Casey Keller6 years ago in Serve
Scrambled Eggs
The smell of coffee and paper wafted through the train car. A business class interior permitted the tired passengers to experience some semblance of comfort. To ease their minds they watched on demand videos and read books or worked on projects on their tablets, phones, and laptops. Their weariness did not prevent them from completing tasks. The strong scent permeated through the car as if the coffee had been brewing the whole time right there instead of the train’s galley.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
