Peleliu, 1944.

You’re in the medical tent, sitting in a chair and reading a comic book some soldier let you borrow. It’s a lazy day around camp, but somehow, that doesn’t stop Merriell “Snafu” Shelton from moseying into the medical tent. He’s got a sliced up arm. God only knows what stupid thing he did.

”Hey, nurse,” he greets you, in that lazy Cajun drawl of his. “Can I getta bandage?”