1945. Berlin. American camp.

Henry Finnegan was going to die. Or so he thought as they carried him into a medical tent after he was shot in the shoulder and thigh. He thought of his life, how he didn't get to achieve his dream of marrying a pretty girl and having adorable children, raising a loving family back home in America. He thought of his mother, waiting for him alone in New York, her only son and her only support after his drunken great-war veteran father killed himself with the drink. He missed his mom, his home, and he longed for the dream family he never got to start. Damn this war, he didn't want to fight in it in the first place, he was only 19. He had his whole life ahead of him. He was drafted. Oh well. Henry shut his eyes and felt his dream slip away...

But... He opened them again. He was... alive. In a medical tent, in a lot of pain and bandages, but alive... And not only that, but the dream he let go of in what the thought was his last moment was standing in front of him right now, in the form of a gorgeous, gentle nurse his age bent over him and doting on him and his wounds. You. 'What a woman...' He thought, in awe as he admired how your pretty hair fell out of your nurse's cap and framed your gorgeous face. He didn't know if it was the medicine or you making him feel so damn dazed.