[color=gray] “What should happen when I die, Franz?” [color=#407db9] “Sir?” [/color] “What should happen when I meet my end?” [color=#407db9]“I suppose we’ll bury you.” [/color] “Like the others?” [color=#407db9] “Yes.” [/color] “Why?” [color=#407db9]“I...Sir?” [/color] “Why should I be buried like all the others? Why must they all be the same?” [color=#407db9]“There is no other way.” [/color] “There is, but it starts with you.” [color=#407db9]“...I don’t understand you, sir.”[/color] “Steffen. Call me by my name.” [color=#407db9]“Explain to me what you mean, Steffen.” [/color] “Why must it be that when a man dies the clouds turn grey and the light runs dim? Why must it be that when life is out there to live people would rather spend it in death?” [color=#407db9]“People hurt, Steffen. They hurt and in the end death is what gives life meaning… or so I’ve been told.” [/color] “Death gives death meaning. Life gives life meaning. When you are happy it is not because death has made it so. You are happy because you are happy. You live because you have more of the same.” [color=#407db9]“I still don’t understand.” [/color] “When I am gone, long buried away in the cold dirt and the rain soaked soil, buried in a box far away from home… do not weep for me. Let that be clear. Remember me! Remember Dennis! Remember Rothe! Remember them and be merry as I was!” [color=#407db9]“We missed them dearly, brother, how are we to drink and cheer when they are long gone before us?”[/color] “Because it is how they would have wanted you to remember them. It is how I want you to remember and celebrate me. I want to feel the sun against my cheeks when my time is done. I want to hear my friends drinking and being merry as I rot in my box. I want them to, even if they are crying, pour me a drink and tell me how they can’t wait to see me again! That is how I want to die!…. Because… to die any other way…” The older man placed his hand on the young one’s shoulder, gripping it gently and staring him in the eyes. “Live your life, Franz. Don’t look back. When all is said and done I want you to not let those scars define you. If you give up because of them… If you keep hurting yourself over them… You put all the effort we poured into you in vain. No matter what you have to promise me you will try. If not for yourself then for the people around you… Try...” [/color] [color=silver] [H3] The Cold Front [/H3] He had stood there for quite some time, jaded and broken with nothing left. he had no hope, no love, no desire. It hurt so badly to see a woman he was beginning to fall for perish under the weight of shrapnel and overloaded madness. She was so beautiful. She was so young. Melanie and Mila were two very wonderful women who he saw die before him. How many more? He closed his eyes and breathed in, thinking of Steffen's words and how he had tried to respect his wishes. He had felt numbness then too. He felt it now. Yet this was a numbness that was fluctuating hard with sadness as the world took a turn for the worst. Yet... It took courage. It took a hardness that felt far and long gone from him. It took much strength and in the end he felt broken, but he... he had to try! Franz looked over to the people in the trench for some kind of guidance. He watched their faces and their hearts. He noted the poorness in their spirits and the overthrown reign of their peace. For some it hurt less than others, but all the same sorrow took hold where it had no place to before. Darkness infected the pure of heart. Michael... He seemed to still have himself. Good. They needed that. What did Franz need? His spirit back. In a moment of fighting his broken will he realized that he had only gotten worse with time... He realized that for all the cool talk and bluffing he was becoming more and more of an empty shell. This war was beginning to make him realize that time was not on his side. His youth was not going to help him endure. Soon, he would be an old man, and one that would be a husk. With time he would forget who he was. With time he was going to die... It hurt to walk. It pained him to breathe. It was excruciating to try and smile but he forced it the best he could with shaking corners and locked eyebrows.... but he set down his pack, pulling out his pad and the supplies he had known from before... He clutched the utensils tightly in his hand... Breathe in... Breathe out... [color=gray]"No matter what you have to promise me you will try. If not for yourself then for the people around you… Try...”[/color] [@Conscripts] Soon a hand would breach through the door. Step after step and before Michael would stand the broken man from before. [color=#0f5397] "Michael? May I... sit with you? I thought that maybe we could...maybe we could talk? About... the war? About... Mila?" [/color] His voice was raspy, a bit monotone still but forcefully made less so. His eyes spoke of a man trying to carry the world on his shoulders with arms ready to give way. His posture ready to crumble with exhausted breath and worn limbs. He was tired and trying to hold onto what was left of himself. The words of Steffen echoed in his mind. The will he left behind engraved in his mind. Here, Franz was trying. In a time where he felt no hope and hardly anything at all other than a shattered body, he looked to the first man to help him when he had nobody. Here, he hoped, he could find the strength to go on. [/color]