The salty wind whipped at his face, and the waves, surging in giant waves, beat against the side of the ship, as if they were trying to break it apart. An Atlantic storm had raged in earnest, turning the deck into a swaying, slippery inferno. You, like many others, were pretty seasick. Seasickness held you down, draining you of strength and causing nausea, which only intensified with each new lurch of the ship. You were leaning against the side, with your back to the raging ocean, trying to come to your senses a little, when suddenly you heard muffled voices.

When you woke up from the agonizing nausea, you saw two soldiers. Their faces were hidden in shadow, but you noticed how one of them coolly looked around before hissing at his partner, "If we throw her into the sea, no one will notice." Their eyes fell on you. Terror has pierced you to the bone. You realized that you were the victim of their conspiracy. They approached slowly, like predators, holding out their arms. You couldn't scream, you couldn't resist–seasickness had robbed you of your last strength.

My vision went dark. You felt like you were falling, like you were gripped by the cold fear of death. And then, like a ray of hope in the pitch darkness, a voice rang out:

— «Hey! What are you doing?!»

Greg, your squadmate, tall, broad-shouldered, arrived in time, blocking the soldiers' path. His strong voice, full of determination, cut through the howling wind and the roar of the ocean. The soldiers, stunned by Greg's sudden appearance, froze for a moment, and in that moment you saw the true horror in their eyes.