It’s 4:00 am, Christmas morning, but nothing about today feels like a holiday. The German attacks haven’t ceased and our Allied Forces aren’t gaining any headway. Not to mention, the last unconfirmed sighting of the H. Proteus was almost two weeks ago. My frustration is beginning to consume my head space. My entire unit is having the same dilemma. I know some of them were hoping to be home for the holidays, instead, we’re still here in Antwerp, searching for the beast.

I’m becoming antsy and unsettled as I wade in this pool of dread. Something will happen soon; I can feel it. I find myself walking the streets of Antwerp all to often. The smell of death and the sights wreckage are making me sick. Like so many other historic cities, Antwerp has been reduced to rubble by th...

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