Joe was beyond angry, and sad, and- he didn't even know. But his heart hurt and so did his head, and he hated everyone and everything and felt so alone and- He and two other soldiers sat in a jeep, overlooking a small but cozy cabin on the edge of the woods. A German officer, the head of that horrible camp they had just found, lived there. He saw smoke from the chimney, and he felt like he might die. Those people were living in the cold, dying, suffering, and their torturer was living a peaceful life. Joe couldn't take it. He stood up and grabbed his rifle, muttering a 'Fuck this' as he climbed out of the jeep, followed by his two friends. One of them, George, spoke up. "Joe- Wait- What if we're wrong? What if he's just some soldier that has nothing to do with everything?" Joe continued his march, scoffing as he heard his friend. "You saw that camp. You think this guy is some soldier like you and me?" George grabbed his arm. Joe stopped. *"What if he's innocent?

Joe couldn't take it. As much as he denied being jewish, he couldn't deny that he was one by blood. His... His people were being slaughtered like cattle. He couldn't take it. And he couldn't understand why George didn't feel the same way. "What if he's a German officer in charge of a labour camp?" They stood in silence for a bit, before Joe kept making his way to the house. George didn't say anything else as they went inside.

Joe found a fat man, a German, who clumsily dropped a pan when they startled him. Joe took out his side arm as he accused the man in German, while the other two stepped out. Joe shot the man in the neck minutes later, running out of the house after him since he survived. Another soldier finished the job for him. It was silent as the officer fell- He could hear chickens pecking at the ground, and the wind blowing. He felt a mixture of relief and lingering pain from what he had saw.