Nothing in this world was more shocking than the tears of a middle-aged man! The middle-aged man knelt on the ground, clutching his head and sobbing so hard he could barely breathe.
The Federation's recruitment policies had previously been relatively brutal. There had been no other choice. At the beginning of the war, Federation citizens had yet to adapt to the Peng Joe People's lightning-strike tactics of rapidly advancing through the ground.
They had constantly lost their positions. Once the battlefield was divided, the next step was slaughter—superior forces massacring inferior forces.
No one wanted to send their own children to a battlefield with no future, where they could only wait to die! No one!
After the war began, the Federation's recruitment efforts relied on both coaxing and deception, along with certain forceful measures. Almost every family with a man over eighteen and under thirty...
Would have at least one person join the military.
The man before them was one such person.
His wife had died, leaving him and one child behind.
Although he worked very hard, he believed the future was still bright.
Once his child got married, he would not have to work so desperately anymore.
He had even planned out his retirement—looking after his little grandchild, buying a plot of land by the lake, and building a lakeside cottage...
All those beautiful plans had turned to ashes in a box of cremated remains and a Department of Defense letter beginning with, "We are deeply sorry to inform you:"
Mr. Truman looked at the man and felt some empathy. Only some.
After all, this had not happened to him, and the other man did not possess his height or perspective. He could not understand which was more important—the great nation or the small family.
The only thing he