Nothing else attacked the submarine that day, or the days that followed, but every sound was heard as the battle cry of a beast, every creak the war song of the deep. Nerves were frayed, and many among the crew found it difficult to rest, and impossible to sleep. For those who fought their way into the realms of slumber, the battle raged on in their dreams.

It was hard to conceive of one so young roped into the war, but that was war for you. Jacob was just shy of twice his age and had avoided the rope so far. He thought that was a good thing. You see, the rope'd hang you.

It was as much a battle of wits and words as it was of mitts and swords.

In such a fight, he thought he might be able to feel the demon in the man become more apparent, but his struggle seemed altogether human. To win this battle, Jacob thought he might have to instead find the demon in himself.

But then the war didn't always harden you on the outside. The desert did that. The war crisped you up within.