Soldier (more thoughts from Berkh)

Soldier

The first apartment we walk into we are met by an old woman, her face lined with years of hard work. She brings us to her room where her husband is lying on a bed watching television. He is 92 years old and was a high-ranking officer in the army, in fact, from what I gather he was leader of the troops from the whole province (pardon my lack of knowledge of the proper military jargon). He has hurt himself and finds it very difficult to walk. Their apartment has no restroom. I can see my breath as we talk to him in his bedroom.
I go around the corner into another room that has a desk/dresser and a few other various items. One of the World Vision staff calls me over to feel the radiator heater. I pull off my gloves and put my hand on it. Cold.
The narrow hallway that runs through the apartment is filled with smoke. We enter the kitchen to discover the source, a wood stove that functions as their main source of heat.
I wander back into the bedroom, the former soldier is still sharing his story. It is hard for me to believe that this little man that can barely walk used to lead an army. I try to imagine him in his prime, full of life with his young wife by his side. I picture happy faces that would never dream of living the way they are now. How does one go from being a leader to immobile and cold?