You had watched from afar when I had humiliated myself in front of Randleman and Guarnere in the pub, watching as I sat with the rest of the replacements silently. You had kept an eye out for me then on, and only then had you really noticed me.

But when Operation Market Garden struck upon us, I hid in a ditch, scared for my life with stuttering breaths and trembles after watching a paratrooper get strikes down right in front of me. I had been so focused on trying to stay afloat that I hadn’t noticed an artillery shell whirling right towards me. In the nick of time, you force me up on my feet, pulling me into your arms as the shell hits the ditch I once laid in, blasting the earth to pieces.