Snippet #1902317

"Hello James! I haven't seen you in forever why don't you come in?" James heard a familiar voice shout behind him. He paused for a moment, a bit conflicted. He'd never particularly liked the Love's, but Rosie was a decent enough girl considering who her parents were and any sort of break sounded very appealing, regardless of who the present company was.

"Well if it's all right with your folks, I'd hate to impose..." James started to say until he caught sight of who was standing on the porch next to Rosie. It was a face who he was well familiar with, that of Susan Mona Lisa Constantine, though he had only ever seen it on posters and the silver screen. His barracks wall had been plastered with pictures of her, Susan was the favorite actress of his tank's radioman Tyler. The poor fellow had been so infatuated with the woman that he had insisted they name the tank after her. "Yo...You're Susan Constantine" James stuttered, a look of complete shock on his face. Then he barked out a small laugh, which grew into a big laugh, which in turn transformed into something uncontrollable, almost hysterical.

The laughter however was soon replaced by tears. Memories and emotions he had ignored and suppressed over the past months came roaring to the surface, quickly overwhelming him. Memories of that horrible day back in North Africa, the shout of "Tiger tank two o'clock" from the tank commander. The brief few seconds of flurry of motion, the whir of the turrets spinning as James reached to start the engine. That horrible shudder and sound as the 88mm round slammed into the tank. The ignition of the ammunition which turned the baking oven of the Sherman into an absolute hellhole. James collapsed to the ground, sobbing like a little child, as memories of that fateful day and that fateful round swept over him. The memory of the burning Constantine, with an already dead Tyler still trapped inside, overwhelmed him, the agony of that painful memory overwhelming the present here and now.