I only meant to serve as long as I was forced to, and come home in one piece. I only meant to live. And they gave us medals for it, they wrote stories about it, as if we were the noble martyrs of long dead days. They were not there. Montjoy had bled so much I thought for certain I had been rescuing a carcass. He was pounds lighter by the time we reached the medical tent. My boots had filled with blood, running down my legs in a steady stream, and it took days to be issued new ones. What a thing to remember.
