She did believe him; all the nonfiction accounts of war she'd ever read seemed to indicate there was a lot more standing around than the fiction ever let on, and she didn't imagine that was something that changed very much no matter when it took place. That didn't stop her from pressing her lips together and pointing right at him. Rude, but this needed emphasis.

"Promise me that if they ever drag me in here dying, you'll put it on. Don't let me go to the scrap heap without seeing that."