"Be aware, people!" The grizzled veteran chomped her cigar and faced her dozen troops. "This enemy does not fear you. They do not feel fear! They barely feel pain, do not retreat, and do not in any way care about you or your pathetic lives. They do not know the meaning of the word mercy!" She paced back and forth, a leashed tiger waiting for the moment to strike. "We must hit them with everything we have, or we will lose. You will die, knowing that this enemy was greater than you! That they defeated you! And having destroyed you, they will destroy your way of life! I don't intend to let that happen." She ratcheted her volume up to a roar. "Do you intend to let that happen?"

"Sir, no sir!" bellowed the troops in unison. Across the field, the enemy stood: tall, silent, unperturbed, like any other grove of cedar trees.

"Remember! This is our last stand! Our movement, our very freedom, lives or dies on this battle. Are you ready?" They roared in the affirmative. "Then charge!" Rifles barking, the troops ran forward, the veteran leading the way.

Stirring gently in the wind, the cedars ignored them.