After some amount of time has passed, staring at the sun and watching the young faces marching into the uncertainty of the Vietnamese jungles, the slow-tempoed music of Eydie Gormé surrounded the air of the science division barracks. All those poor faces, that marched along the dirt road, belonged to father and mothers that sat in their homes back in the United States of America, that either, uncomfortably spent their time watching the minutes disappear, hoping to once again hug their lost children or lament at the thought of receiving a stars and stripes flag instead of the remains of their first born sons. "What did it matter anyway?", thought Augustine as he watched boys as young as 18, barely able to grow a beard, walk into their certain death, "I guess people are just born to die in some bumfuck country, for some pointless war. I just hope they go quick and not feel anything, it's much better if everything just went dark than to watch yourself slowly die."