Hmmm.....
I would grow up in an old ComStar family on Terra, just down the road from the birthplace of the Blessed Blake. As a result, I'd be inclined to his teachings.
My father and brother, members of the Com Guard, would fight on Tukayyid against the Clans. I'd be too young at the time to join up. My brother would be missing, presumed dead, in the aftermath of the battle. My father would hold a hatred of the Clans.
When the schism occured, I would follow my father into exile on Gibson, as he'd dislike Focht murdering the head of our organization and seizing power.
I'd grow older and join the Word of Blake Militia as a mechwarrior, fighting in the liberation of Terra, and later join a garrison division fighting to improve the lives of the abandoned peoples of the Chaos March against pirates and House raiders. Meeting a nice girl, a fellow Blakist, I would marry and have kids, raising them with teachings of Jerome Blake.
I would be proud that the Star League is reborn, and the Inner Sphere is concentrating on the threat of the Clans. I'd be prouder when the Word, acknowledged for all its humanitarian good, is granted membership.
And then I'd be mighty pissed when the Houses killed mankind's last chance for peace (no, not Babylon 5) and redemption a second time.
Perhaps a Precentor by then, I would join in the war to force the prideful and arrogant Houses back to the path of righteousness and redemption. Through luck and skill, I'd survive a multitude of campaigns against multiple Successor States. I'd see horrors committed on both sides, and be forced to deploy tactical nuclear weapons against House strongholds in order to preserve the lives of the men and women under my command.
Through it all, I'd remember the good that will come when mankind is reunited and the arrogant House Lords see the error of their ways. I'd remember we are Humanity's best hope, and Terra's sacred warriors. I'd sent messages home, telling my family that we will do everything to keep Terra safe.
When the war began to turn, I would cling to that hope, sometimes desperately. As the Clans turned on us, I would begin to feel the noose tightening, as the enemies of progress began to unite against Terra.
The sight of new volunteers, younger and younger, but their hearts still tied to cause of the Blessed Blake would make me feel both old and yet hopeful. Hopeful that we warriors of Blake may yet safeguard the Protectorate.
Our successful counterattack at Dyev would restore spirits, but things would get worse.
Finally pulling back to Terra, I would brace for the inevitable. As the invaders stormed Terra, I would fight, and lament as most of my division was picked apart by the overwhelming numbers of the heretics and traitors to mankind.
I would feel anger at the coalition for its targeting of Mother Earth. As our numbers dwindled, and defeat became imminent, I would resign myself with the knowledge we did our best. Such criminals and monsters will gain nothing from defeating us, except to usher in a Dark Age under their tyrant Stone.
But death would not find me in the battlefields of Terra. Wounded, my command shot up and scattered, I would be captured by the coalition. Nursed back to health, I would anticipate being identified as a commander who authorized the use of nuclear weapons. Surely a different end would await me. But luck - or the Blessings of Blake - would see a raid on the coalition base by Blakist soldiers allow me a chance to escape.
With the Word destroyed, records wiped out, and Terra under occupation, I would make my way back to my family, to retire into obscurity.
No pension. No money. Nothing except the knowledge we tried out best, and the joy my family survived the coalition's brutal attack on sacred Terra.
Finding a job, I would go along with my life, and see how Stone's Age unfolded.
