I've grown a lot sense the original version of this story.. So let me see if I can re-word it.. See if something really can be made out of this..

The year was 1939, World War 2 had only recently begun and the imfamious Holocaust was still fresh on the news of the world, still on everyone's mind. It was only a few months later that the world fell into the second Great War. America was still undecided about joining, Pearl Harbor was still yet to come, so as a result so was much of Canada, they didn't have the research to go to battle without their great blood brothers across the border. Something that's still not too different from today.

But there were exceptions to this. A small handful of Canadian men and women still wanted to fight, amongst them being Thomas James Crow. His family was Jewish, and in this timeline the SS had already started invading other countries, and had invaded Thomas's home to steal away both of his parents, he hid under the couch and was spared.

Now a balding adult who has no friends and no job, he lived an isolated life away from society, and he only knew one thing, a growing hate for Germany. And there was only one thing he wanted to do, the one thing he ever wanted to do. He wanted to fight. Especially one man in particular. Captain Jerald "Jerry" Hazboltz. It was him who led the invasion of Thomas's house. He remembered him two. He had green eyes, a big burly mustache and a large scar across his face. Even under his bed Thomas still saw these things. He also had a way of carrying himself, he yelled a lot, but had a very deep voice, it stood out from the other Germans, as the others had a high pitched voice and yelled all the time, Jerry was far more calm and collected, far more desensitized and reserved.

Thomas now lived in Halifax, and it was near Peggy's Cove that he finally found a requiting area. It is a dark overcast day, it usually is these days. Thomas waited in line for his turn. Wearing a white t-shirt despite the weather being cold enough for everyone else to wear sweaters at the very least. But Thomas didn't care. He didn't care about most things in fact, he was kinda nihilistic, he didn't care if he died out there, as long as he brought the SS with him he'd die a happy man.. But that was what he thought at first. We humans are a funny thing. When your moment truly comes, no matter how much you truly believe you're ready to die. You don't. The human will still want to see tomorrow, it always wants to see tomorrow. We want to be remembered, not just remain amongst the rest of them. Just another casualty, no longer important to the world. Just another name to write. Another letter to file.