Two days. Forty-eight hours. Nearly three thousand minutes of torture and constant beatings, constant questionings, constant hell.

By now the Marine was black and blue, bleeding from multiple place, groggy. He surely had a concussion.

The room he was in was only five feet wide, but it was fifteen feet long, and there were four other captured soldiers tied up on chairs along either wall.

There were no windows - the only light came through several bullet holes high up on the wall of the building.

Having been captured three days ago, and then brought to this dismal cell two days ago, Corporal Reinhardt had been interrogated time and time again, but he had never given anything up, despite being beaten and tortured in front of four of his own men.

The Chinese had finally gotten fed up, though, and were through with the nice beatings.

Instead of being faced with his usual wiry tormentor Reinhardt was today faced with a taller, proud standing Officer wielding what looked like an American revolver, a Smith & Wesson .500 to be exact.

This new Chinese man talked slowly, deliberately in perfectly pronunciated English - probably just recently learned - and then calmly informed Reinhardt that if he didn't give up whatever information that he had he would get to watch each and every one of his friends executed there in front of him.

Reinhardt looked to the first man to die, and the two met each others eyes and silently agreed that he would die.

The gun went off and the Private's head was splattered over the dingy wall.

This happened three more times, each of the lesser soldiers being shot, their heads sprayed against walls.

Reinhardt watched the Chinese man now, and could have sworn that he had seen a look of sorrow momentarily pass across his features.

What was even more surprising, though, was when the officer untied Reinhardt's right hand and handed him the pistol.

"Look, Corporal, you know and I know that you will never give up your information. If you would have you would have done it just now. I respect a man of your resolve, and I could never kill you in a situation like this, one that's so unfair. You have the gun. You can kill yourself if you want, and end it all. Or you can not do this and someone even more terrible than the man that has been tormenting you these pasts days will come to forever scar you. The choice is yours."

And the Chinese man left.

Reinhardt slowly turned his stiff, sore neck to look at the heavy revolver. It was shining even in the dark of the room, it was heavy, and it was inviting.

Reinhardt knew that there was only one sensible choice at that moment. There was no way that he could stand a day more of this pain, and he had the deaths of four of his soldiers on his hands now.

He stuck the barrel in his mouth. It had a warm feeling, and it tasted funny, but good.

His hand began to shake violently. A tear ran down his cheek.

A shot rang out in a valley in the Eastern part of China. It was muted and small, and duly noted by a reconnaissance drone circling above.

And the world kept on turning.