The Lieutenant is what others in the military would call a "lifer", as a kid he wanted to grow up and do something with his life, finding the military felt like his calling. He was good with people and found he was an even better leader. He went through college and became a Lieutenant in the Marines, fighting on the front lines as an infantryman. He's lost more soldiers than he would care to count and he's dedicated to stay in the hell hole until one of two things happen: the war ends, or he dies. Either way, he's not going without a fight and he sure as hell isn't leaving to let his men fight without him, not when he wants to avenge all those who had died. The guilt is what keeps him there, the guilt and the sense of purpose, like what he's doing is for the greater good.

Moving through the thick brush the Lieutenant was checking on his men, making sure each was filling his orders to the letter. That's when he came across one soldier, something about him really pissed the Lieutenant off. Not that he had necessarily done anything deserving of being pissed off at. It was just his presence, the way he held himself, the way his uniform seemed to fit so nicely, the way he looked up to the Lieutenant. It drove the commanding officer crazy. When the Lieutenant closed his eyes at night the thoughts in his head weren't that of his girlfriend back home, but of the soldier sleeping just tents away from him, his subordinate. It wasn't his girlfriend's soft supple skin or her plump breast that flashed behind his eyelids when he was alone at night, it was the hard planes and muscles straining under scarred flesh that only belonged to one soldier... his subordinate. The Lieutenant gave him a quick subtle nod before moving on, trying to ignore the burning he felt in the pit of his stomach, trickling lower into his groin whenever he was around.

The Lieutenant just remembered something and turned around. "Hey rookie, you're on guard detail tonight," He said sharply.