"I remember it," he said. "I couldn't fight, I was still working out how to get about in a wheelchair, but I remember the Attack. And all the shit that came after it."
He stopped after that and scrubbed at his face, probably looking as tired as he felt. "It sets off a war, and we're losing. I don't want you to stop the attack. I want you to get it right this time so I don't spend twenty-one years fighting a hopeless war and burying almost all my friends and family."