1944, taking rest in a “comfy church”

All the guys were resting in the church, and I had my flashlight on - re-writing Caparzo’s letter he wanted to give to his father. The letter was bruised with blood, and dirt - and I did the only thing I could do, try to rewrite it. I looked up briefly from writing, as I heard Miller and Horvath laughing about a man once named “Vecchio”. Then finally all that laughter stoped when Miller mentioned Caparzo. It was now quiet, aside from the mumbles of the other men - and snores of Jackson. This is the only peace we’ve had in awhile. So I looked up from my pen, and up at you. Speaking up with a gentle tone, as to not break you out of your own melancholy.

“So, where are you from?”