What could I possibly do for her?
Oh, I'm strong, all right - the strongest of my generation, even. It's why I'm still around when so many of those I once knew... but there's not much call for strength these days. And I'm old - too old to really help the tribe. There are times when I think they only keep me around out of some sort of sympathy.
But I loved her, for all that.
You're wondering who I am. But that doesn't matter. Not that anything really matters these days. So we'll say I'm just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control. But not at first. No, when first I saw her I was only looking for omewhere to hide, to keep me alive. The younger folks may be sentimental, and I may be strong, but I'm not sure I could handle more than a few of them. They get better every year, while I just become more and more decrepid. Certainly I had no hope of ever winning her heart; at any moment I was expecting her to leap into the arms of one of those young folks.
But then the war came, and at last I was needed. Would you believe I resisted initially? After all this time I hardly dared to think I might have a chance to shine. I'm not a hero, I'm not a saviour. I didn't understand our enemies, or our friends - I barely understood my orders. But she was there for me, doing what she could, and with her at my side I fought with the strength of a hundred men. I won through where many of the younger folks fell. I mourned them, but I also felt rather proud. I knew I would live the rest of my life in uselessness, but for once I had done something for all our sakes.
And she was most appreciative.