Here's the intro:
May 23rd, that's the day our world ended. Over a hundred million people consumed by fire and metal in a single afternoon. Prayers were answered with bullets and courage rewarded with death.
It seems like a century has passed since the war began, still no one fully believes things are going to one day be better. The hardships have become a way of life. Constantly on the run, always hiding. What happened to that paradise we had hoped our children would grow up in? May 23rd, was the day God abandoned America.
I believe it was Santayana who said, "Those who do not remember their past are condemned to repeat their mistakes”. And so the historians urge us to tell our stories. These professors think that by chronicling our accounts of the war, that we will somehow instill hope in the generations to come. I have witnessed more deaths than any man can comprehend, taken enough lives to ensure my place in hell. I am responsible for more deaths from both sides than any man would dare to claim. In their naivety, these historians believe that my accounts of the conflict may have the power to shape the outcome of this war in our favor.
My name is Connor Jeffries. This is my account of the darkest days in our country's history and how the Resistance began.
