General Bospehus stared out the window. It had been seven years since the war began and he was tired.
His aide, Clarise, was killed two years ago in the Tempe offensive. She had been in the desert making ambrotypes at the time. He had several of her works framed in his office.
He stared out the window and wondered at the uselessness of it all. He knew it was an unwinnable war designed to fatten the coffers of the administration's arms dealer cronies.
He himself had made good money off the war. There was no denying that.
His conscience was fairly clear though. He had always strived to end the war. The administration had finally told him in no uncertain terms to can it and keep on fighting.
The resignation papers lay on his desk unsigned.
He sighed and opened another bottle of wine.
"To think this all started over the importation of Tecate beer!" He said aloud to himself.
"That stuff is pissy rice beer!"
Although he did enjoy a can or two now and again on a hot summer day.