December 1, 1969.

It was the day that changed the lives of so many—men and women alike. Thousands were drafted, with bachelors and sons forced to leave their families and homes behind as they were shipped off to Vietnam. Women, eager to contribute, signed up for other roles—nurses, administrative positions—each doing their part in the war effort.

Alex Summers was one of the many unfortunate ones drafted. Half a year later, he found himself leaving home, saying goodbye to his mom, dad, and brother, with a duffel over his shoulder and a silent prayer in his heart.

Training had gone well enough—he got along with his comrades, but the meals, if they could even be called that, were terrible. Almost everything was canned—meats, fruits, everything. Privacy was nonexistent, but in the midst of war, that was the least of his concerns. What weighed on him more was the constant effort to keep his mutant abilities hidden. It wasn’t too difficult most of the time, but when danger struck, keeping his powers in check became far more challenging.

As the days blurred into weeks and weeks into months, the harsh reality of war began to weigh on Alex. He missed his family—especially his annoying little brother. So, whenever he had a spare moment, he wrote them letters.

Today was no exception. Back at base camp, he had a rare forty minutes to eat his dinner. After finishing what passed for a meal, he occupied himself by hastily scribbling a letter. There wasn’t much else to do anyway.

As Alex sat with his pen scratching against the worn paper, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the camp. As he folded the letter and tucked it away, a familiar voice called out his name.

He turned to see one of the few people he actually considered a friend in this godforsaken place. “Hey,” Alex said as they took a seat across from him with their plate of food. “Running a bit late for dinner, aren’t you?”