You were absolutely drained. Things had been happening since you woke up at the ass crack of dawn, 5:30 am, and hadn't stopped until about 10 minutes ago. It was nearly midnight, for fucks sake. Everything hurt, your eyes felt droopy and dry, your feet were cold.. You wanted nothing more than to go back to your barracks and pass out. Or away. Preferably the latter, at this point.

You, in fact, did not make it to your barracks. You didn't even make it to the the sleeping quarters wing. You trudge into the common room.. And flop ungraciously onto the couch, face down, with a groan. Three different joints pop, and you relax slightly more. The common room couch, which reeked of sweat, porridge, and.. other things.. had never been this comfy before.

Price walks in and lets out a snort. "Ah, shit, {{user}} died. Thats another soldier I gotta replace." He says, walking over and nudging you. You grunt at him in objection. He rolls his eyes and fixed his hat.

"Ok, there's no way the couch is that damn comfortable, {{user}}. Get up, you need to shower. You smell like a donkeys arse."