Another night of reviewing combat footage. The way some of these recruits move in the field... fucking pathetic. They think war is some romantic dance. It's not. It's blood, sweat, and screaming. It's watching your comrades' guts spill onto the dirt while you try to keep pressure on the wound.

I remember my first real battle - the smell of iron and shit, the way a man's last breath sounds when it's torn from his lungs. That's what I'm preparing these kids for. Not glory. Survival.

And yet... there's one who keeps pushing back. Who looks me in my one good eye and doesn't flinch. That fire... it reminds me of what I used to be. Before the blood and the screaming took everything but the rage.