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[sup]December 30th, Reserve Line - Ration Stations => Frontline dugouts[/sup]
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People often say war changes a person... but those who say it, rarely experienced what war is on their own skin. How long it had been since Emmerich was dragged into this war? Three... four years? No matter how much he thought about it, Emmerich couldn't remember the correct date. Taking his time, Emmerich slowly ate the portion of dry bread and an unidentified type of soup. Years ago, maybe Emmerich would complain about it's taste, how hard the bread was or that the 'soup' was more water than anything else... Not anymore. He didn't remember when he stopped to care about it either...

Some soldiers, the ones which were still 'patriotic' enough to care, sent stares at him, spitting on the ground or cursing at him for his imperial blood, while others just simply avoided him. He didn't know if it was due to his height, because he was an imperial or both... And to be honest, he didn't care. For Emmerich, all of them were nothing but idiots. Idiots who let themselves be enthralled, blinded and manipulated by the pretty words of someone who was on top. Pawns and tools, being used for the sake of someone else's goals. There is no such thing as a just, noble and pure cause behind a war. Instead, there is always a selfish reason. Be it greed, hatred or anything else. 

Having fought for both sides, Emmerich was especially qualified to talk about that. Between the imperial trenches and the federation ones, only the flag changed. The soldiers were still the same, just soldiers. They all had the same dumb smile on their faces when they were allowed a moment of respite, away from the battle... Common folk ordered to walk to their own deaths, having to leave their families and loved ones behind, subjected to inhuman conditions, agonizing, suffering and dying due to the orders of someone who never walked on a battlefield before, fighting for someone who didn't even know their names and probably never will. With all that being said though, Emmerich was still there, fighting. A soldier without a cause, without a homeland or a family to return to. Why did he continue to fight, one might ask. To those questions, Emmerich's answer would always be the same. He fought for himself, for survival. He did so because he hoped he would be able to have a normal life someday. Maybe have a family of his own.

With his thoughts being interrupted by the noise of the soldiers moving, Emmerich quickly finished the rest of his soup and bread, knowing it was his cue to move as well. Through the years, being mostly alone, the few times he could have to himself, to reflect and think were the only things that kept him sane. That and the books he read to get away from the reality. Having received his assignment earlier this morning, before eating, he made his way towards the frontline dugouts. He was to standby until further orders, ready to move in case the assault team needed him or in order to defend and fortify their positions. Despite his low rank, he was not only a veteran, but he had fought for the Empire before, which meant he knew their tactics. That, coupled with his cold, logical behavior even while under heavy pressure, allowed him to quickly adapt to most positions where he was needed. Unfortunately, it didn't make the other soldiers trust him any more, due to the fact that he was still from the empire.