Paintball; Platoon

Today Team A6 gathered together in a battlefield to play paintball. I have been shot in my throat, in my arm when I was already eliminated, in both my legs like Elias in Platoon, when the Vietcongs shot him 20 times before he died.
I did not like watching people so eager to shot at me. Hidden in the woods, journeyman snipers seem mercyless.
And they are, with semi-automatic air guns screaming. My hairs green of oily paint.
Where is my general?
Soldier boy, made of clay,
Now an empty shell,
Twenty one, only son,
But he served us well,
Bred to kill, not to care,
Do just as we say,
Finished here, greeting death,
He's yours to take away