A sense of proportion

We parachuted laughing into the mouth of Hell, the lads and me. Our aircraft banked over Megiddo plain and we saw the Dragon crawling toward its foretold destination. The Beast's hosts swarmed below, overrunning Rapture-thinned Christian strongholds and fortified kibbutzim alike. The Damned lurched, moaning and feeding on anyone in their path while radioactive ash from the last of Mankind’s wars darkened the land. The replacement lieutenant, David something - James? Jones? - earned his pay and our gratitude with a few words as he lowered the tailgate for the jump. 'Cheer up boys - what's the worst that can happen?'