Hi i'm starting a novel. This is like the first pa

Hi i'm starting a novel. This is like the first part in the beginning of the first chapter. Just want to have other people's opinion. Please do criticise. Thanks. "A toast to our comrade" Raising a glass of home brewed barley to a round of people. One who seemed to be too old for the occasion. Poor Rodriguez, quite a bit ironic he's not the star of the night. He smiles like he'd seen it all. Hurriedly skimming through the calendar, hoping for a break. Such a strong man for his age. Another, like its the first time he's been away from his dependency. A bit too sudden, innocence taken away from it's crying mother, but the flag needed more men and he seemed fit for the criteria. And there across the old wooden table straight from a fallen tree, he raised his glass one last time. "To me" a large group they are, almost rented out the whole bar. But to an extent only four replied and two at the most who nodded. It's already past midnight, and the group finally called for the last round. It's as if they never intended to leave. Wasted. Like wretched souls of the land they are. A strong pungence throughout the bar emanating from each and everyone. Masking the veneer of every people present. They knew, it's the last time they'll see him. Let the least mention his name, so does him. A few laughs, some only a faint of a smile. He was barely even standing. On his chair, with his trembling foot hardly supporting his own body weight. He stood up. Not as quick as he could before, but enough to get the few remaining souls conscious available. It's one of those goodbye speeches, a bit of a tradition in their troop. It started years ago when an emotional guy got injured in battle, they knew he wasn't that good so they had to get rid of him somehow. They call him Cry Mcree. Made a little speech himself before he left. Woke up everyone early in the morning. Made some people mad. Some heartless enough to burst into laughter. But as he go on, they felt the sadness. It's not everyday where someone leaves your troop. And after a decade or two, maybe even less, develops an undeniable attachment towards each other. Years after that more people felt the urge to do the same. All as it was, it became the most melancholic thing in a soldier's career. Maybe even worse than dying. #Books

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