They say that we are not expected to last through the first week.
But from the second we saw him, we knew that Gran was different.
Everything about him was a reflection of the war, the way he moved, the way he always seemed to be a part of his surroundings, the way his eyes blazed with a cold madness...
Asking around, it was as if he had always been here, no one had seen him arrive.
He was a legend.
I never spoke to him, I didn't dare, and a week later I was transfered to sector nine for artillery training.
But I will always remember those blazing eyes, and the man who was as old as the war itself...
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