Trapp grasped the cold piece of metal in his hand and slowly turned the worn edges in his hand. The flask looked beaten and old as if it had seen as much of the war as the owner had. Though the commander kept the metal polished so that it cast ghostly reflections of the world and made one wonder if it was showing the observer a separate world, a happier one. Those that were insightful might of noticed an inscription one it, the shaky lines seeming as if it was done by hand and in a hurry. The script was far flung from the commander's own bulky and direct printed words but was rather in a flowing style, waves of the oceans that spelled out simple words that probably held the most meaning to the commander. 

[center][i]August; 
         Adieu la vie, adieu l'amour, Adieu toutes les femmes C'est bien fini, c'est pour toujours De cette guerre infâme
          Be safe my soldier.[/i][/center]

The name signed upon the bottom had long been worn away as a result of the commander continually running his finger upon it. But he knew the name by heart and even still looking at the metal today it brought him back to a certain time and place far, far away from the cramped spaces of the Lincoln. The incandescent wind blew without purpose over the windswept grassy fields, carrying with them motes of dust and pollen that brushed against his clothes. It was not yet summer and the wind still had the chill of the dying winter that ran tiny dances up and down his skin but he did not care. He did not care because she was there, a smiling face and long thing blonde hair that floated around her head like a halo, as petite and delicate as porcelain. She was Micheal sent to give Lucifer one last chance, and she was laughing. Dancing in the field of flowers atop the hill a spirit unbound freed by her passion. She beckoned August to come over with a laugh as always and as always August moved to be with her. But he never could, no matter how fast his feet would take him she would always move just out of his reach. He tried to cry out to her and yet his voice was lost somewhere in his throat, a sharp pain in his leg and soon he fell the ground refusing to let him go and she drifted further and further away beckoning him to catch her. He tried to call her name but it was lost as the wind picked up once more. He should have expected it, it always happened the same way and yet each time he felt the weight of the world finally slam into him.

The scene changed quickly as was the norm as he was swallowed into a pit of darkness. When his eyes opened he was in the middle of a city, fighting against the rush of people that slammed against him as they all ran away screaming. From somewhere high above in the sky hot metal screeched across the sky before colliding into a building to his right exploding in a cloud of fire and smoke. From somewhere behind the torrent of screams, worried faces and crying babies he could hear her calling out to him. She was looking for him, she sounded scared on the verge of tears. He was so close and he just needed to reach her, he just needed to make sure that she was safe. August pushed against the crowd of people getting shoved and pushed as he did. They were all faces he recognized men and women he had let die, men and women that he himself had killed, all the litle boys and little girls that wouldn't be going home to their mothers to be tucked in at night because of him. From somewhere far above a chorus voice boomed and echoed the words of the soldier's hymn each verse punctuated with another shell slamming into the ground and denoting. Yet he forged on he had to save her, he just had to save her. The ghostly specters of his past beat him as he ran by with bottles, fists and bats as he fought through them screaming to her that he was coming, to not worry. 

He breached the crowd and there in the middle of the road she was on her knees, tears stained her face. She looked scared but her face lit up as she saw him. She whispered the last words August heard as a shell landed a foot away from him and detonated sending him flying through the air. He did not feel the pain that should of came from his legs being blown off and pieces of shrapnel being embed in his neck. He felt nothing as he slammed into the ground. When he finally stirred he was looking up at the sky as a rocket raced far into the sky leaving a trail of smoke far below. All August could mutter were bitter and struggling words. [b]"Don't leave her you idiot! Don't go you goddamn fool! Please.... don't leave."[/b]

As he lay there calling out to himself that was already far above somewhere in the sky, her words from before as the shells came raining down came back into his mind.
[center][i]"Where are you August... Where are you?"[/i][/center]
[hr]
Commander Trapp averted his eyes from the flask as a voice asked him a question as reality came back into the present. It was Trent asking for permission to be dismissed. He looked around and noticed that during his spell most of the others had taken their leave as well. He wondered if he ever acknowledge their responses to his speech or if he just sat their in silence. He looked up at Trent and was perplexed for a moment as Trent did not seem like the type to ask for permission of anything really. But never the less Trapp appreciated the gesture and figured that maybe his speech ahd done some good. Nodding he give him a curt and simple of course as he pocketed the flask back into his inside pocket right up against his heart were it belonged. 

His attention to Sokolov, McKnight, and Astelion. The three of them inviting him to participate in their blood sport. As McKnight shot a look over at him he wondered if his melancholic expression was so obvious. Somewhere deep within his brain had already made up his mind within his head. Punching something would probably do wonders on his mental state at the moment. After the fact it would be a good way to get to know the members of his squad better and maybe make the divide between them and him less apparent. No better why to do that than by beating the crap out of one another he figured. The boxing itself was a long 101st standard that started with the sparring competitions back at basic and stuck with most of them. It was intend to train discipline and combat awareness but also inspire respect and loyalty among the recruits. For it was fimrly belived you didn't really know a man until you punched one another in the face.

The commander smiled as he heard Astelion's snide comment and shook his head giving a small chuckle. His voice was jovial and even a little bit playful farflung from the stoic demeanor he had when he had given his speech previously. If Trapp was good at one thing it was burying his hurt psyche down a twelve foot hole in the ground. [color=lightgreen]"You know what McKnight I think I may just end up taking you up on that offer. Maybe kicking the shit out of Astelion here is just what I needed."[/color]