Chapter Text
"Houston Harold Moore. The man I could never stand, I held my animosity up to him, and him only. I couldn't stand him the moment I knew him, arrogant and stupid.. He would never stop talking during meetings, and even worse? All he's ever done is follow me around, thats all he ever did, he calls me in the middle of the night, and he stands in my way, he sticks out like a sore thumb in crowds, and.. I don't know what to do with him."
The letter I sent to my allies, but was I lying? I hate him. I hate his guts, the way he looks at me like that, it's almost like he doesn't even hate me, the way he's so friendly to everyone, it isn't even just me! He looks at Piovere, and acts like he wasn't the exact man we fought against a few years ago, when he stands at the podium? He's stupid and small. What could I ever do with a man like him? His cowboy hat.. His cowboy boots! Everytime I look at him, I could feel nothing but a wave of embarrassment, not just for him, but for myself.
My resentment isn't just his dumb looks, and his personality.. His way of thinking. His way of thinking! I had to work with that fool in World War II, and he almost got us killed, he doesn't think things out, and he doesn't learn from past experiences. He doesn't see things deeper than what it is, he thinks, and then he does..
My God, what will I do with him?