Star Wars universe soldiers and their superstitions, though
We all know the Jedi have their beliefs about life and death and their ghosts remaining in the Force to guide the living.
Imperial stormtroopers tucking prayer cards under their armor imploring any and all galactic deities to protect them - on planetside drops, on ship-boarding missions, or just in the halls of the Executor to protect them from a slow gasping death from an invisible hand.
People who swear Tarkin’s ghost haunts the halls of the second Death Star and that his lingering outside Jerjerrod’s quarters is slowly driving the younger Moff to insanity.
Clone cadets who tell stories of brothers - ‘bad’ ones with vision that blurred when they tried to focus or who limped and stumbled when they ran - who vanished in the night and whose little ghosts still wander the halls of Kamino’s facilities. The sounds of their footsteps and cries all seem to lead to a locked door in an area that even the big ARCs won’t go near. (All cultures have their child-abducting monsters - some were just much realer than others.)
Pilots who hear the voices of the dead coming from their comms, warning them to turn or spin or dodge the bolt that will kill them - sometimes too late.
Sightings of rebel commandos and scout troopers racing each other through the high canopy on Endor decades after the battle was done, speederbikes and camouflage and white armor flickering with luminescence that no living being possesses.
First Order troopers who have never seen Phasma un-armored seeing her as more deity than soldier, their Mother Mary with a blaster rifle. The propaganda posters of her take on the cast of Orthodox icons with offerings of scraps of charred Resistance insignia and stolen guns laid on a shelf under it.
Lost and wounded ships, imperial and Rebel alike, with limping hyperdrives and failing life supports being flanked by squadrons of battered TIEs and X-wings with unresponsive comm channels whose numbers only seem to swell as the ship’s crews slowly succumb to death.
Clonetroopers who comfort grieving brothers with the tale that they’ve just gone on Eternal Leave and that someday they’ll all reunite with their brothers long gone to the barracks beyond the veil, and they will at last know a life beyond the war they were bred to fight.
Just, give me all the superstitions and folk religion that would develop in a world with so much war and so many soldiers to fight them.
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