He experiences war fatigue before rest.

Cool air seeped into the uniforms of the men as night fell. Inky blackness came with fog. In the distance, there are orange flashes with nearby firefights as the rumbling of warfare twists further and further away, creating new fronts.

The hotel was quiet. Some noises and chatter were coming from the different rooms. Somewhere else, there was banter shared between cold food and canteen drinking. As for Graeber, however, he was isolated for the time being. He was wandering without purpose. He was on the upper floor somehow; it wasn’t decimated by aerial explosives or the snouts of tank barrels.

In his hand was a red and white tin of chocolates. Lukas had given to him one of the three that Lorelei gave him when he left the Fatherland. The metallic material felt different in the warzone than it did during times of peace. He sat on a stool and took a deep breath in, and suddenly, he started to cry.

The weight of the war came down on his burdened mind. The mangled remains he stumbled over during his service flashed in his brain. The guts, the gore, the mauled. Russian, French, British, German. The near calls with bullets and artillery– he was almost killed by friendly-fire just a few hours ago! How could he return to an everyday life? How could he marry anyone or relate to someone that didn’t suffer this same life? He considered the lives he took. How many of them were fathers? Brothers or husbands? He swallowed hard as he fought the sob that started to boil from his chest.

Graeber buried his face into his palms, muffling the noises of the city around him and the firefight in the outskirts. His face burned with embarrassment as much as it felt wet. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he stopped crying. He jumped up, but his unseen visitor refused to let him on his feet.

“It’s alright,” a girl's voice said.

“Katarzyna?” He choked, now terrified for her safety. “Was machst du hier?!”

“Das ist nicht sie, Herr Graeber,” the girl said, admitting it wasn’t Kataryna.

Graeber thought for a second but then started to cry again. It didn’t matter who it was at this rate. His visitor remained behind him, rubbing his shoulders and hushing him slightly. A few minutes pass before he can finally regain his composure. “Wer bist du?” He whispered, still feeling the hands on his back.

“Entschuldigung,” the voice replied, sounding again different. “It’s Alicen.”

He laughed slightly. “Then why aren’t I hard?”

Alicen continued to massage his back. He was surprised to hear her sound awkward. “I’ve…seen a lot of wars before. But this is the worst one I’ve ever seen in my whole life. This is the first time I’ve ever pitied a man. The first time I’ve seen a man break as hard as you just did.”

“Were you there in the Great War?” Graeber asked.

Alicen shook her head in response but then rolled her eyes. He didn’t see her. “Nein,” she told him. “Das war etwas vor meiner Ziet.”

“How old are you?”

“You’re not supposed to ask a girl her age,” she laughed and said in one breath but cleared her throat. “I’m only 68… Born in 1875.”

Graeber felt like that was a lie. He thought she was older, but he decided not to press her for the truth at that moment. He didn’t even believe this was the worst conflict she’d witnessed, but somehow, he believed she’d never seen a man break like this before.

“Aren’t we beyond this type of conflict?”

She grumbled like she’d been asked this before. “You mortals are never beyond conflict. Your weapons become less biased, but their effect becomes more widespread. It’ll burn the innocence of children and the lands of the uninvolved. You’ll fight like heathens until your Creator comes and cleans the mess He’s made. Maybe after this, you’ll stop for a while. But you’ll never stop trying to enslave others, and it’ll boil over again until it happens all over again.”

A stiff silence comes over them. All that Graeber does is nod. “How embarrassed God must be of us then.”

Alicen pats his back gently. “He’s used to it by now, I’m sure. Besides…One day, everyone who’s alive today will be dead, and everything that’s happened these last few years will be forgotten. Things will go back to a kind of average– a kind of peace. The Greeks did it. The Romans did it—especially the Khans. Things will be better. Eventually, they always turn around…And around and around.”

Graeber closes his eyes. He shook his head in disbelief. “Why does that scare me more than anything I’ve seen since joining the army? Are we bound to do something worse even after this?”

Alicen sighed next. “Get some rest, Samson. You’re overthinking after a day this long.”

...

...

Graeber wakes up, and for a moment, all he thinks it’s for no reason, but then there’s a distant pop and a subtle thump in his sternum. Artillery that isn’t from the well-known 88’s or 7.5 cm Feld Kanones. It’s far enough that Graeber doesn’t panic or begin stirring out of bed, but it’s close enough that he lays awake, staring at the black abyss above him.

The other men in his room don’t make a noise, but they are undoubtedly doing the same thing as he is, awaiting panic, the rushed act of grabbing their gear to prepare for yet another red wave to crash.

A glint reflects off his K98 Mauser, which provides some comfort, but adds to the growing tension he senses in the room. Alone or not, the feeling of woe had been an increasing concern among everyone within the Wehrmacht war machine. The winter of 1942 put significant obstacles between the German army and the “minor setbacks” that drew them further from Moskau.

It felt like it had been years since Graeber had a full night's sleep— longer since he’d had a hot meal that wasn’t watered down or filled with meat that was unevenly cooked.

Tears ran down Graeber’s eyes, and he blinked. How much time has passed since he blinked? His eyes flutter while he lets out a loud yawn before he tosses himself to his side. A few minutes pass, and the interior remains silent, but the bombardment continues to break up the earth, pounding some poor bastards that had to brave a follow-up attack. Hopefully, the frontline he and his squad mates were stationed won’t have to experience such torment.

The pounding slowed, and silence came. All that Graeber heard was now the pounding his heart was giving his sternum. Excitement was running through his body, eager to leap for cover if the next volley of explosive ordnance were screaming towards his position. However, when it didn’t happen, he drifted back to sleep, which he so desperately needed…