Steve was tired. He was tired of thinking about death and he was tired of feeling guilt that drained him and he was tired of feeling tired, that emotional exhaustion. He was tired of feeling at all. He was 26, but he was also 96 and he'd fought a war, and not just the one against the Nazis, but the ones over and over and over again, against himself, in his head, every waking moment and every sleeping moment when his subconscious attacked him with dreadful images and he was just tired. Of it all! Sometimes, on dark days, he just wanted it to be done. He just wanted it all over.

After all, what was a war without a casualty?