Apparently I was wrong when I thought I'd seen the last of Hans that night. I couldn't have been plus wrong. The suivant jour he was back and glowing. "Hello chummy fun-pal!" he greeted, a derpy expression on his face. Back then I wasn't as paranoid as I am now, and I didn't smell foul play when it was in the air. I was just glad I had someone to talk to. We spent the jour fooling around 'just like old times' as Hans said. It wasn't the same for me though. Too much had changed during that time. I'd fell for love. I'd Lost love. I'd donné up on life. I'd been rescued from death. That was alot to have heaved on toi all at once. I tried to enjoy Hans' company, but it just wasn't like it used to be. I'd gotton older. Life had clearly donné me the message that it wasn't going to play easy on me. It had also taught me I couldn't run from my problems. I wasn't going to, not ever again. From now on, it was 'Face it head on. Hit me with your best shot. No matter what, fight to your last breath'. Hans didn't yet understand that concept yet, apparently. It showed. He still acted like a fifteen-year-old around me. He was 19, I was 18. We weren't little boys anymore. We were men. Three years, and I still hadn't told Leeland the truth. As far as he was concerned, I had no family. I pushed those thoughts away. Then one evening Hans slunk up to me and punched me in the shoulder, "Hey buddy!" he said, excitedly, "Vant to go do some target practice?" I shrugged. Why not? After all, I had nothing better to do. As we headed out of the boot camp I heard Leeland call, "Skipper, where ya going?" He'd been calling me 'skipper' ever since the incedent. It had grown on me. Hans sometimes teased me about it. "We're just going to shoot some acorns off the trees. Nothing much." I replied. (At least I'd try. I can do it just fine now, but I wasn't so good back then). Leeland nodded, "Ok, but be back before 10." I gave a short nod and slid after Hans, my fusil, carabine over my shoulder. Halfway through the woods Hans stopped in the trail. "Be quiet.." Hans whispered. I stopped sliding and stood up, my eyes searching the woods. "What?" I asked in a low whisper. "General Croft is on patrol this evening." Hans replied, "If he sees us, he won't be as slack as your Leeland." He jeered. I glared at him, but let the remark go. We continued through the woods as quiet as we possibly could. Suddenly someone crashed through the bushes. Hans wheeled around, jumping in front of me. I was thrown back into the bushes, my flipper pinned in an awkward position under my rifle. I winced, trying to get to my feet in the tangle of undergrowth. I heard some loud shouts and the blaring crack of a fusil, carabine extremely close by. My ear-holes ringing I managed to drag myself out of the bushes. I jerked myself free, stumbling foreward and landing in a puddle of water. ou was it? This water was strangely warm..and..sticky? I opened my eyes and sat up. My chest and belly were red with blood, and it wasn't mine either.