Drill seargent, if I can convince the people in charge to allow me to do it. My dad did it, and I inherited quite a loud yell because of it. Plus, since I'm kind of small, it would be freaking hilarious to see giant, muscled soldiers absolutely terrified of me. As much as I hate war, I would thoroughly enjoy yelling and cursing at people bigger than I am. It's the simple things in life, really.
If that doesn't work (which is likely), I'll follow in my mom's footsteps and take up the noble and often forgotten art of logistics. In war, a lot of people seem to forget about all of the people that get the bullets and food supplies to the people with guns. Let's see how long you last in a firefight when your guns don't shoot and you're starving.
Plus, bullets hurt, and blood makes me woozy. So, frontline soldier and medic are both out. I doubt I'd be able to shoot straight, anyway. Too busy screaming and crying.
If that doesn't work (which is likely), I'll follow in my mom's footsteps and take up the noble and often forgotten art of logistics. In war, a lot of people seem to forget about all of the people that get the bullets and food supplies to the people with guns. Let's see how long you last in a firefight when your guns don't shoot and you're starving.
Plus, bullets hurt, and blood makes me woozy. So, frontline soldier and medic are both out. I doubt I'd be able to shoot straight, anyway. Too busy screaming and crying.