Erich drank the beer that his wife had given him as he sat in front of the fireplace. His wife, Erika, cuddled close to him, touching the litany of medals pinned to his uniform.
Throughout the war, he had been awarded just about every honor for valor and gallantry on the field of battle that a soldier and junior officer could be granted.
And he had earned them not through the position of his birth, but through blood and iron. Erika, however didn't admire the medals simply because they were proof of her husband's heroism in the face of death.
She understood all too well the weight of what they represented. The two of them had talked for hours about their lives apart from one another over the course of the war.
And Erika knew her husband well enough to understand that after a mere five minutes he was trying to avoid thinking about something. Something important…
Eventually, she forced the man's hand as she fetched him another bottle of beer from the kitchen.
