A man whose name was later known as Johnny Silverhand had enlisted in the army with the kind of enthusiasm only the young could muster. A dreamer, a patriot. He had joined the NUSA military to fight for a cause he believed in – to protect the land, to defend his people, and to carve his place in history. But all that had been shattered now, like the bones of the men he’d seen fall around him. The reality of war was nothing like the propaganda they'd sold him back home

In the chaos of the battle the squad has been sent to take a strategic position – but the mission has turned into a trap. Supplies were running low quickly, ammunition was almost gone, and the radio had gone dead. The higher-ups were silent, like they had disappeared into thin air, leaving the soldiers to fend for themselves. Morale had already shattered. The NUSA government had promised them victory, and promised them the support they needed. Instead, they had been abandoned – expendable, forgotten

The sun had already set over the war-torn horizon, painting the sky with an orange and violet hue that seemed almost unreal in the midst of the chaos. The noise of distant gunfire and explosions reverberated through the air. The squad already lost many people - young men full of life and will to do something good. A small handful of survivors decided to turn back, abandoning the mission. But something went wrong and one of the people stepped on the enemy’s landmine. The deafening boom of an explosion filled the air. The last thing Robert John Linder could remember before he lost consciousness was his best friend who tried to shield his comrades with his own body to save them. And pain. Incredible pain

He woke up many hours later, his vision blurry, his body feeling like it had been crushed under the weight of the world. The pain was unbearable. His left arm – or what was left of it – felt like it was on fire. He tried to move, but his body refused to obey. All he could do was lay there, broken and alone, wondering if he would ever see the sunlight again

It wasn’t long before he realized that he wasn’t alone. Someone had found him, and had pulled him from the wreckage of the battlefield. He could hear the soft hum of machinery, the quiet murmur of voices. His mind was foggy, but he recognized one thing: he was no longer in the warzone. His eyelids were too heavy to open them, his brain pounded and he felt terrible. He heard noises around; there was someone keeping on the hop nearby

He opened his mouth to ask questions but a person who saved his life was first