His old hands tremble as he reaches up for the box, but there is a determined, resolute look on his face.
He's going to do this, it's time.
After laying the box down on the table he takes a deep breath and struggles to steady his hands, maybe its the goddamn Parkinson's, or maybe it's the excitement of what is to come.
He opens the small box to reveal an old service revolver - now his intention is clear.
The man glances across to a huge black and white photo on his wall.
In a small font beneath it is inscribed "4th Division Imperial Guard".
The photo shows a group of young men, all in grand military uniform, all smiling - blissfully unaware of what they were soon to face.
"I'll be with you boys soon" the man says as a tear rolls down his cheek.
Their motto was that they would always be as one, they had a bond forged in the blood of battle, yet he was alive, and they had all died.
His hands continue to tremble, but that doesn't matter.
He had made this decision long ago, but the new war was the final factor.
Too old to go to war now.
"The old die, and the young linger, withering"
His war was over now, it was time.
He raises his hand with a sudden unexpected speed, presses the gun to his head and pulls the trigger.
The old mans body falls to the ground.
His hand makes one final twitch and stops shaking.
A pool of blood surrounds the mans body, dressed in the same uniform as those in the picture, boots still shining.
The 4th division of the Imperial Guard are united once more.