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It was around nine-o’clock in the evening, Antwerp time, with a light snow gliding gently from the starless sky to the deserted pavement. I was clothed in the formals – an auburn shirt and black tie beneath a dark-green jacket bearing my colors, grey trousers, silver cufflinks, night-black shoes with the fancy laces, and the army’s traditional cap that looked like a tent pitched upon my crown. A glance in a shop window proved it (as if I needed further evidence). I looked clean, cut, and so smart it made my heart ache in disgust. Had my passions been so persuasive I would have hailed from those very streets; “Bring me those narrow trenches of wood, dirt and cold! Bring me those gleaming fields where the trials await my coming! Bring me that which I came here for! Bring me the war!”

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Original post.

The idea for this story has been "in the oven" for over a year now, but I think I've finally absorbed sufficient literature to find my own style. The story holds an interesting mix of the detective and war genres (far better than the attempt in Hart's war). Tell me what you think.

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It was around nine-o’clock in the evening, Antwerp time, with a light snow gliding gently from the starless sky to the deserted pavement. I was clothed in the formals – an auburn shirt and tie beneath a dark-green jacket with my colors, grey trousers, silver cufflinks, night-black shoes with fancy laces, and the army’s traditional cap that looked like a tent pitched on my crown. A glance in a shop window proved it (as if I needed further evidence); I looked as sharp as I felt, and it was an all-time high for both. My only source of grief was the unfortunate truth that no one from home could see me right then and there, but these thoughts were short-lived.

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Do your worst.

The only part which I had to re-read was the 'auburn shirt and tie beneath ...' I read this as the 'auburn shirt' and 'tie beneath...' If you see what I mean.

As for the attitude...it doesn't make it for me. Where did he get the uniform? If it was provided by his family (and I think that this was still the case in some parts of Europe at the outbreak of WWII), then his attitude is...very cold. Even someone like me appreciates those sentimental gestures offered to a son going to war. Making your boy a good looking uniform is utterly pointless and I'm glad we abolished that weird tradition, but it's very cold to show contempt for it.

If, on the other hand, this is an issue uniform, then he had to go through training before he got it. And he wouldn't hate that it looks good, because he'll have gained at least some idea of what wearing it means. He probably will think it somewhat silly, but he'll apprieciate the less personal but still significant honor that his country bestows in granting him this recognition. Sure, it wasn't stitched by his mother or girlfriend or whatever, but it is a sign of approval from probably the hardest eyed SOB he's ever had the displeasure of knowing in his short life. Not personal approval or anything, just the grudging admission that he might have some utility on a battlefield after all.