Alone on an island in the south pacific. Alone and carving into another tree for firewood. The gas mask rests in your boat on the far side of the island. Your long rifle sits nearby at your partially made shelter. Alone, but not disturbed by it. At peace with the simple things, at peace with no more war. You check your bandages and the wound is healing, but when you close your eyes the blood is still caked thick.
Alone on an island with nothing but your survival skills. They’ve gotten you this far. You lay and bask in the ocean sun, the salt licking your teeth. The sounds of waves crashing , and not a care in the world. 

If you could forget your wars.