Cooper never considered himself as claustrophobic. That was just silly, in his mind. Who would be scared of something like the size of a room? He had seen war, seen his friends die before him. He'd seen plenty to be scared of. Tight squeezes were not one of them.

Then he was stuffed in a T-60.

He understood now. He had nightmares, even now, years later, of being trapped -- a dead core being the cause of his inability to escape. On his back in the mud, wounded and in pain, watching his buddies get killed.

It was like sleep paralysis. He lied there, unmoving, sweating and trembling in his sleep. He was scared.