My cold face dropping onto the cold glass woke me, and my eyes were treated to a blurry vision of snow. It’s not like we didn’t have it in Britain, it’s just we were more accustomed to an inch or two. But this? No, we’ve never seen sprawling miles of white like this. Chilling, yet lovely.

I’m unsure of where we are, Simmons is sleeping across from me and I don’t want to steal his slumber from him. Peaking my head out into the aisle, I look for any awoken companion.

I see Tom sitting alone in a two seater, and move over to him.

“Any idea where we are?” I ask, nodding to the snow.

“Fifteen minutes from Bastogne.” He replied, shooting me an assured look.

We didn’t need to talk much more. His eyes returned to the approaching horizon, and mine returned to the back of my eyelids.

I relaxed my muscles, easing myself back into sleep.