To most people, the scene at the B&G would be perfectly normal. The place was crowded to the brim, which was common enough. The place was popular and had remained so for many years. I could remember the first time I visited this place, as a fresh faced greenhorn...and that was the problem.
The faces of the living and the dead blurred for me, deceased people who I had enjoyed a cup with many years ago and the fresh faces of the living, still part of the war machine. It was easy enough to go to the latter from the former...returning, not so much.
Of course, all of this was a mind trick. I had not gone insane, yet. Tired and vaguely depressed...but mad? That was not going to happen. Composing my thoughts, I looked around and couldn't really place anyone I recognized. An officer was lying on the floor, apparently unconscious. A cracked glass besides him told me why. I frowned at this anomaly a midst the relatively orderly bustle.
One way to find out.
I tapped a person on the shoulder to get his attention. "Excuse me...uh,"
