They are our masses, they are our future. For the future to fight for the present, it takes hardly a leap of logic. For the young to guarantee their own lives and futures, they must take up arms and fight alongside the wizened, the ancient. Why make the older fight for freedoms of the younger, which they will not experience? It is neither logical or fair… although, nothing is fair in this world any more.

Our young have been shipped off to battle – they are the best weapons money and time can buy; and for their sophistication, they are incredibly cheap. All you need is a woman and a man, and a few minutes of enjoyable effort: then the gears start churning, and the cogs begin turning, and a few years later, a soldier is born.

They are trained from the start, the morals and beliefs are ingrained at such a young age that they all think the same. They all understand each other, and can predict how each will react. This leads to unwavering co-operation in the field, any changes in the plan are notarized and accounted for instantaneously by each individual. Their communications verge on the telepathic – there is questioning whether the next few years will develop genuinely telepathic communication. The mental phenomena has intrigued many top-ranking scientists - they claim that these infant soldiers are clones to each other more so than previous failed attempts at playing God. They see the children of war as the ultimate pinnacle of human achievement. They believe that when these soldiers mature and are retired into normal society, they will provide a critical and strong backbone for the most stable union of mankind ever seen.

The military is their home, they are bred to thrive within the system of it. No need goes un-met, however these miracle workers do not crave to such an extent as their adult counterparts do. They need only live on small rations, packed with key supplements. Many go weeks without a heated meal, surviving on pills and liquids alone. They do not care – to them, their life is consumed by the fires of war and progress, and human requirements stand in the way. They sleep with one eye open, their underdeveloped hands clutching their weapon of choice, prepared for a surprise attack which may not even come. Their ears are always tuned for unknown footsteps, the far off whistle of an approaching missile. Their fresh, young eyes are fault-proof, they never miss a target. The young snipers are even more accurate than the turrets manned by computers. A bullet from their muzzle not only hits the target, it slices through the heart, or between the eyes.

The highest of technology caters to their few needs: recoil-less weapons, lightweight armor, gear that is compact and feather light. Their youthful legs can propel them for longer times, and over rougher terrain than the assaulted and harassed limbs of older generations. Their nerves are strung taut, their reflexes in their prime. Shock units are frequently deployed in the middle of the battlefield, left to fend for themselves at the mercy of their stressed nerves and reflexes. Not a single young soldier has yet died on the field. They can roll, duck and dive faster, lower, better than any of the opposing military.

Though their stature is small, their courage is massive. They dive headfirst into the enemy’s den. They form strong relations with their squad, communicating with hand signals and thought alone. Gone are the days of traceable radios and phones; the new age of war is now.

Reconnaissance squads move like shadows – no, they are shadows, mere flickerings of dark within the darker boundaries of sunless territory. They flit, flicker, are completely silent. Small and compact, these new soldiers do not worry about telltale cracklings or footprints. They do not weigh enough to leave behind impressions and tracks. No one expects a pint-sized enemy, so the opposition does not see them or react when they show.

The young have no conditioning other than the country’s. They do not understand death enough to know what it is they do. They are told to kill – and kill they do. Oh, the tiny midgets of this century’s war! They do give the heart courage to continue on! They are smart, they design their own tactics and plans the like of which were never conceived or pondered. Do away with pincer movements! Do away with mindless bombings! The new generation of war is about intelligence, covertness, ninja-like attacks. When the young strike, they strike like lightening, leaving nothing behind.

With their senses sharpened like razors, their minds filled with cunning and skill, the infant militia do strike fear into the hearts of the enemies! Done away with are the ideas of old, now the tides do turn, and while the young are sided with us we will conquer. The future is here, and it fights for US!