[b]In the depths of Mindanao, 9th of August 1940[/b]

The soldier's guts were spewed out on the jungle floor, his eyes watering. Doom were in his eyes, a whimper of "mama" stuck in his throat. Blood flowed out of his mouth, head going limp. A rough, callous hand reached out towards the young soldier's destroyed body, closing his eyes. Lieutenant Abdul Ahmed stood up and turned away from a sight that he's seen too much. A young soldier charging into battle, only to be killed by a stray bullet or artillery fire. Another mother won't get to see his son again, another lover not see their boyfriend.

The 4th Scout Platoon just lost their newest and no doubt youngest member. At the age of 16, he signed up for the army to fight in the war overseas. Unfortunately, there was already a massive veteran contingent fighting in Europe, so he was sent to the Mindanao for live field training. He was in the 4th for one week before getting killed from shrapnel in the gut. A bad and painful way to die. 

"Fuck!" Abdul kicked a fresh corpse in the gut, an enemy sniper they shot down. The very one that called the artillery strike on them. The one that killed one of their own. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" With each curse, he kicked the dead man, the insurgent. The so called "Freedom Fighter" of the South. In the midst of all the chaos World War Two, these farmers armed with carbines still find a reason to kill more of their troops. Troops who should be sent to Europe, not some backwater island in the middle of the UFS.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, smaller but as hard as his own. The Lieutenant stopped in his furious rage, head slowly turning towards the one who stopped him. First Sergeant Jane Turner, one of the fee American soldiers from the American base in the Visayas, Philippines. "Kicking a corpse won't bring him back Abdul" she said softly "leave the dead alone and let's come back to the river. Command is sending us home."

Jane took her hand off and walked off, shouting a few orders to carry Junior back to base. Abdul ran a hand through his hair, tears forming in his eyes. The stress of the last few days washed over him, hitting him like sledgehammer. The numerous ambushes and skirmishes was enough for a man to break down. Your freshly made platoon sent to the death, slaughtered in the first few battles. Brothers and sisters in arms staying in a hostile environment for almost two years, seemingly forgotten by their commanders.

It has been two years since he or most of the 4th Scout Platoon have seen their families. Sure there were some reinforcements but like Junior, most of them were green as grass. They usually learn this when they're killed in their first battle. They were the called the "Forgotten" for a reason. The only commander who really pays attention to them was General Long, a Malaysian man of Chinese descent who thinks that they were the key to killing off the insurgency. They have gone through village after village, farm after farm, and they've been successful so far. Didn't mean that they enjoyed being away from their family for this long.

"Lieutenant! Are you going to stay there or are you going to go home!?" Abdul turned and smiled for the first time in years. Those few words made him forget years of exile and blood. He was going home now.

[hr]

[b]Present Day[/b]

"-turned down ten promotions. You have led the 4th Scout Platoon for quite some time, yes? You've been given many medals, even the infamous title of the 'Premier Guerilla'." Miguel droned on and on.

First Lieutenant Abdul Ahmed looked at the President with a dry look. Here he was, stuck in an office in front of the most powerful man in the UFS. Giving him a run down of his career. Like experiencing it wasn't enough. Of course, it was still the President, you had to be polite in front of big wigs. Didn't mean that he liked what was happening though.

"-and so you have been chosen, along with your platoon, to escort an ambassador being sent to America on the war in the Pacific. Afterwards, you will fight alongside American troops against the Japanese. All troops are being rallied but it is taking time. You may be the first to experience the Japanese in battle."

Abdul's jaw dropped. "Wait, what?" Miguel smirked and hid the draft of a message to be sent to America.

[@Monkeypants]
[pre]
From: The United Federated States of Thailand-Philippines-Malay 
To: United States of America

Greetings, we were your allies in the past. We shall be allies once more. We are sending an ambassador to serve as an extension of me in your country. Alongside them is a platoon of highly trained veteran guerrilla's to be sent to work with your troops. This would be a good exercise for your troops to be used to ours. We will have to work together in the near future so this will form bonds between our two countries.

The Lieutenant leading the platoon will be Abdul Ahmed, he is a veteran from the jungles of Mindanao, Bali and the forests if Europe. He is the premier guerrilla fighter and can train your troops. Likewise, we ask if you can train our troops as well. Note that these soldiers do not like to be undermined. If Abdul is away or missing, First Sergeant Jane Turner will act as Platoon Leader.

Kind Regards, Miguel Mendoza, President of The United Federated States of Thailand-Philippines-Malay
[/pre]

Miguel dismissed Abdul, smirking a little after seeing his face. His face turned to a look of worry as his gaze turned to the letter, sent from the General of the 8th Army. What he would find would anger him greatly.

[hr]

[b]Fort Lapu Lapu, Cagayan Valley, Philippines[/b]

Artillery rained down on the northernmost base in the UFS, severely unexpected. It destroyed man and vehicle alike for straight ten minutes and then silence. The enemy forces landed on the beach, finding nothing but carnage in the nearby town. They swept through the whole beachhead, only to find no opposition.

Meanwhile, Sergeant Nathaniel Ordonio led a group of civilians away from the village as long as several wounded and dead. The bombardment was a surprise but the General of the nearby Fort Lapu Lapu acted quickly and evacuated everything two kilometres from the beachhead. It was not an easy task and to get these crying, broken and shocked civilians through to the 8th Army in the mountains was going to be one hell of a trip. "Oi, Ordonio!" 

Nathaniel turned to see Colonel Jonathan Osprey, one of the leaders of the operation. Osprey was sent here from all the way in the base in the Visayas and was planning to stay around in the Cagayan Valley for a bit of R&R. The evidence was clear to see, he wore civilian clothing and his face was covered with ash but he still had his .45 nearby, gripped tightly in his hand.

Jonathan came up to him and said in a low voice, "I need some men to stay behind to watch for us. We need to slow these guys down so that the civilians get to safety in the mountains. I plan to send you and a platoon of soldiers to hold up in the jungle, hopefully set up traps and ambushes. You up for the challenge?"

Nathaniel knew what he was looking at. There was nothing more obvious than a suicide mission, to slow down a never ending tide. But this was for his country, his Liberty and God himself. He looked determinedly at the Colonel and said "I'll do it."

An hour later, Ordonio and a group of 42 other men were sent to their deaths. They set up traps in the jungle, spike pits, rock crushers, tripwires, mines, trap after trap after trap was laid. They climbed up high in the tree's and waited for the opposition. Of course, this was all futile in the end. They will go through this "Death Trap" Jungle, kill them all and probably take over half of the Cagayan Valley. But this was just to slow them down.