"We need to talk, Bob."

Bob's shoulders sank. He knew what was coming next.

"Levi, if this is about what I think it's about, then I don't want to hear it."
"He's dangerous, Bob. He'll get us killed."
"He's in our squad. We fight with him. That's the way it is, Levi."

Levi sulked, and the two of them carried on stacking crates onto the cart.

"Can I ask you a question, Bob?"

Bob looked at a particularly large crate. Its markings showed it contained mortar rounds.

"Sure, Levi. If you help me with this crate."
Levi grabbed the other side of it, and the two of them strained to lift it onto the end of the cart.
Once it was down, Levi wiped his brow. "If you could choose who was in the squad, would he still be in?"
Bob looked at Levi. Then he looked around. There was nobody here, and Levi deserved the truth.
"No. He's insane. He's reckless. He's a liar. He's a danger to himself and all around him. And he never thanks anyone when they save his sorry arse."

Levi smiled. "You forgot his personal hygiene issues. Could've had the full set there, Sarge."
Bob laughed. "Maybe I think he's improved in that area?"
"Well, the incense certainly masks the smell!". Bob and Levi were both laughing now.
Bob sat on the crate, as the laughter stopped.

"We can't get rid of him, Levi. Sorry. Even if we did, they'd just send another. Who might be even worse."

Levi sighed. "Fucking Chaplains. Lunatics, the lot of them. I didn't mind being drafted. But fighting with Chaplains..."
Bob slapped him on the shoulder. "That's why it's a Holy War, my friend!"