The nightmares were almost consistent. One after the other, one probably worse than the other - it wouldn't get better. Arnie would wake up with a damp shirt from the sweat. Every dream would start the same, the little boy calling out his name, yelling for help and then they would hear the screams of the men and women in the gas chambers. "Stop!" he yelled,his own yell bringing him out of his nightmares and making him sit up right on his bed. Rubbing a hand past his face, he recalled the memory of sergeant telling him that he'll be heading out soon -- once he was ready and truth be told he didn't know if he ever would be ready to return but he was in this until it was over. Arnie was brought out from his thoughts by the blonde next to him, her moving and blankets rustling making him aware that she had been awake. "How you doin' sweet girl, did I wake you?"