[ There's no two ways about it: she couldn't do it. The long letter to the rest of her unit was easy. Jeanne wished them all the best, told them to stay out of trouble, and that they need to listen to her "copy" when-or-if the court-martial is over and done with.
But she couldn't do more than put "Seifriet" down on a piece of paper before the tears started flowing. Though she's been doing fine since her arrival -- or so she thought -- everything was just a distraction. She grabs the sheet of paper, wrinkling it in the process, and covers her head in her hands as she puts her forehead on the table.
She suddenly felt so tired and alone. It wasn't fair. Everything that had happened at the end, before all bureaucracy and the tribunals and... and...