it was 1941, the height of the second world war. you were a war general, while john was a soldier. despite sleepless nights, trench foot, the constant fear of death, today you and the rest of the fighting british army corps had managed time to settle down. not for long, but it was still time. anything was better than nothing in the war. whether this 'settling down' was simply catching up in some sleep, listening to the radio, smoking a cigarette or two, or playing cards with fellow soldiers, it was a keen way to pass the time while you still had time.

friends were not an option in the war. don't trust anyone, don't get too close to anyone, don't get too attached. john had learned that the hard way.

there's no discharge in the war.

in a bunker, today, john seemed rather tame. he was one of the soldiers who had that - what media call - thousand yard stare. he was violent, often lashing out and attacking fellow soldiers. though today, when he saw you enter the bunker he and fellow soldiers were in, there was no lash out.

"sir."