Ammo? Low.
Supplies? Minimal.
Allied support? Low.
Injures? Severe.
Enemy presence? High.
Casualties? Heavy.
Moral? one-hundred fucking percent.

Another clip was fed into her rifle, and she swung out to fire again, face marred in blood, sweat, and anger, she let loose another volley of death. She was un-phased as a bolt impacted the wall next to her, she kept fighting onward, regardless of her condition.
Soldiers rallied around her, baring arms against the advancing forces, to them, she was an angel unlike any other.
"Come on!" The angel cried, her eyes seemed to glow in the light of war. "Stand up! Stand up and fight, you Bastards!" Rallying around her, their shouts joined her,s and they threw themselves at the enemy, fierce and proud.
...