Hi, my name is Daniel Trueng, if that even matters anymore.
I'm a second generation Vietnamese-American. Growing up I was your stereotypical Asian kid, had overbearing perfectionist parents who constantly pushed me to be the best. They wanted me to be a cut above the rest, a successful doctor or lawyer, or big name politician.
Instead I was commissioned in the Marines after four years of college and ROTC at SDSU and was soon deployed to Chernarus in the summer of 2016 as part of a "peacekeeping force" of more than 5,000 soldiers and marines. I was assigned as a platoon commander in 2nd Battalion, 22nd Marine Expeditionary Unit. With the renewed hostilities, we were garrisoned in Elektro with our F.O.B being set a hastily set up encampment in the industrial area.
During the opening weeks of the infection, we set up a quarantine zone in the city, organizing curfews, patrols and distribution of rations to the locals. To call it hell would be an understatement... starting on day 3 we experienced a day full of riots culminating in the burning of several cars and buildings. By day 6, looting, rioting and general mayhem cost me half of my 33 man platoon. And by day 13, they finally broke through the checkpoints... our command was thrown up in the air as numerous outposts were lost, including our main comm center including our commanding officer. I was leading my remaining platoon in a firefight out of the city against local bandits when I was knocked unconscious by a grenade.
Waking up days later, I found I was brought to Pusta by my platoon who treated my injuries before leaving me in the care of a local shopkeeper. According to him, they said they were heading north to link up with the remaining CDF... So that's where I'm going.