Best Military Fiction Books Novels & Stories

Several soldiers who had overheard their conversation immediately began whispering among themselves, clearly interested. “Hey, how long has it been since they last dueled?” “I want to see this.” “Steven’s definitely going to lose this time.” “I agree. Zach’s got the advantage. Otherwise, why wouldn’t Steven accept his challenge?” One soldier commented excitedly, “Whoa, this is going to be the most interesting duel ever.” “Huh? What’s so interesting about it? They duel all the time.” The soldier shot his friend a disdainful look. “Hey, you really don’t get it, do you? They’ve both been promoted to War Commanders. If they duel now, it’ll be their first duel since receiving those titles. Isn’t

“Why do you want to be an EMT?” Tim cleared his throat. “Well, sir, I was a medic in the Army, and I loved it. I’d like to pursue that path in civilian life.” “Honorable discharge?” “Yes sir, a medical separation. I was wounded in Afghanistan.” John leaned back in his chair. “It sounds to me like you weren’t happy about being discharged.” “No, sir, I wasn’t. I’d planned to retire from the Army twenty years from now. But it is what it is.” “I wasn’t either when it happened to me,” the program director confided. “I was in the Marines. And like you, I planned on being a career man. But small arms fire during Desert Storm altered my path.”

The only thing I like about Gray’s office is that it’s filled with books. Big, thick books bound in leather, with gilt-edged pages, texts on war and military theory, encyclopedic tomes on world history, classic literature, poetry. But it’s not a library collected after a lifetime of reading. It is a library that has been purchased for show - Drew’s idea of which books should line the shelves of a military man’s office. He has a similar collection in his own office. Most of the books have never even been opened, eyes have never rested on their words, fingers have never caressed their pages. They are as untouched and virginal as nuns.

“Are you guys ready to finally do as we were formed to do?” My eyes glared at Callighan as he lifted his head up to the sky. Once that loud howl came from him, we all prepared ourselves as the wolves charged at us altogether. All we could do was fight to our hearts desire. One charged at me and right when I thought life was over for me, the gunshots came right after him. Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! However, those shots were not enough… -To Be Continued- The End of Book 2

Vampires and Lycans never got along, Why? Because of an ancient war that started before you... Before me, before my kind, and now we're the ones left to fight it, carrying on centuries of a hostile blood war. Caught in the middle of it, are pesky humans... beautiful, and cunning creatures, yes, but not the smartest. And pity them, of how they are so oblivious about everything that constantly happens, mysterious animal attacks, unsolved homicides without leads, missing persons report files stacking higher, and still, they turn a blind eye. But... Are they? Blind? I mean the signs are there, evidence surrounding the existence of the supernatural, theories on theories, and they couldn't find th

Cameo asked from behind me as I stepped into the air-conditioned space. I ignored him. My fingers drifted lazily over the weapons. Metal kissing my skin, while one name burned through my mind. Abel Roshid. “Sir?” “Cameo, do as I’ve said.” My voice cut in, cold and final. His heavy sigh followed, then the sound of the door closing behind him. When I was alone, I picked the flick blade with serrated edges. Unsheathed it and ran my thumb along the ridges, feeling every bite of it. A dark smile curled on my face.

again? No. I can't. I can't break Emily's heart. She's so sweet and kind. Anna's trouble. But, fuck. I loved it. I'm drawn to it. I crave it. I need to push this out. Clear these thoughts from my head. She's not going to leave Michael for me. I need to focus on something else. How about the fucking war game, idiot. Ok. I drift back into reality. Taking in my surroundings. As Alpha, I'm a lone wolf. No teams. Just me. The other two are on their own as well.

Wow. I was drooling. It wasn't just a room with books. It was a sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with hardcovers, a rolling ladder, a massive fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. The scent of old paper and leather hit me, comforting and familiar. I ran my finger along the spines. ‘The Art of War’, ‘Sun Tzu’. ‘Histories of the Roman Empire’. Biographies of kings and conquerors. Heavy stuff. Interspersed with them were fiction classics. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Dumas.

I browsed the shelves, and I read the titles. Into the fire, A firsthand Account of the extraordinary Battle in Afghan War by Dakota Meyer, Bing West 500 Days, Secrets and Lies in the Terror Wars- Kurt Eichenwald The War for crown and Empire There are all sorts of books about wars here. I paused in front of a book that I deemed the most interesting. I pulled it out of the shelf and stared at it, contemplating whether to get on with it or not. I can choose a much thinner book… The 33 Strategies of War- Robert Greene

It was the handshake of a man who believed you could learn something about a person from how they received it. "You've been reading," he said, noticing the book on the side table. "Military history. The Italian campaign." "Whose account?" "Rick Atkinson." He nodded approvingly. "Good choice. He understands that logistics wins wars, not heroism." He sat down in the chair across from the board. "Most people get that backwards." Elara brought tea and then made herself scarce in the way she did when she understood something was meant to unfold without her managing it. Thomas set up the pieces.