Softly, sadly he gazed upon all that was there before. With a fight raging close by him, he thought about how his life had taken a dramatic turn months ago, abrupt, sudden, like a whisper. He had lost all that he once knew, and refused to forget. John Davidson Smith once believed in a higher purpose, and now the trying times he faced made him question even those who were once closest to him. He was in for the fight of his spirit, which was resilient within his weak, starved frame. He listened to the voices of the damned, and thought about the meaning and purpose of the will to survive.

John months ago was a content soldier.
He enjoyed the little things in life and looked at big change
with a bit of pessimism. He knew how friends could be
your greatest dream come true one day and a horrible
nightmare the other. John had many friends whom he trusted
very deeply. He would joke with them about captains, teachers from long ago, and grouchy old men from wars long forgotten. He thought of himself in very modest terms, never bragging about his achievements or what he owned. However, he was missing a foundation for the temple of his emotions and soul. He had never felt romantic towards anybody. Sure, he was interested in a few girls here and there, but never true, meaningful, love. One day, as he was on patrol listening for the slightest sound that could mean a threat, he heard a noise coming from behind him. He turned around faster than a speeding bullet and saw his best friend, Andrea.
“Andrea, my God, I thought you were trying to kill me!” He looked at her, and he was stunned. He had experienced something unique, out of the usual. What happened next changed his life forever. He was in love. Nothing like a minute crush, but true, meaningful companionship and absolute trust. He walked up to Andrea, and before she could say anything, she said, “John, let’s leave together,” with bright eyes and a devilish smile. He picked her up and carried her back to the fort John were they were stationed. He was about to enter the best and also worst of times.

About six months later, John was deployed into battle along with
Andrea. He had been promoted to Captain, and she had become a Lieutenant.
This was the first incident of real combat that both he and Andrea had seen before. When they got to the battlefield, they both were traumatised by the ghastly sights they saw that day. Men lay ripped apart on the ground, crying out
in desperate agony for some help. Andrea had cried with tears streaming down her face. John was silent and tried to remain stern, like his
drill sergeant had screamed at him to do so many times before.
As John was about to grab Andrea, he heard gunshots from the
distance and fell to the ground along with her. With absolute horror over her wound, he cried out in fury, with blood and sweat pouring all over his body.  He looked at his dogtag, and it read “Do not go gentle into that good night,/Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.” Andrea grabbed his arm with a final desperate attempt to keep him from blacking out. There were voices nearby them saying, “Excellent shot boys, looks like we got a pair of toys for the boss to
screw around with.” “I will inform him that we’ve got Prisoners B6 and B7.”
The voices erupted in laughter and talked about getting some drinks for the celebration of a double capture. 
John looked up towards his captors with a furious sneer, and  his eyes were bloodshot red and his muscles swelled around his body, as if he were a hound ready to snatch its prey. With all of
the strength he could muster, he said “Do not go gentle into that good night,/”Rage, rage, against the dying of the light…”