Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
the dust-caked, tired body, yet there they were, seeking, always seeking—searching the clear horizon, and never seeming to find what the water would be welcome on tired bodies and dry throats. He spurred his horse, the horse. Then both man and horse plunged headlong into the waiting In the fading light, he ate the hard beef jerky and drank the scalding coffee. Refreshed and momentarily content, he sat staring into the dying fire, seeing the bright glowing coals as living fingers clutching But the portion of his brain called memory stirred. It was all alone all else was at rest. Images began to appear, drawn from inexhaustible files, wherein are kept all thoughts, past, present, and future.... It was the night before he was to go overseas. World War III had been declared, and he had enlisted, receiving his old rank of captain. He was with his wife in the living room of their home. They had put the children to bed—their sons—and now sat on the couch, watching the voice which always seemed to send a thrill through his body. "It's for you so long as you wear it, I'll come back, even from the dead, if need be. Read the inscription." he had been many times before but each time found something new and unexplored, some vastly different emotion he could never quite explain. The next morning had been bleak and gray. The mist clung to the wet, sodden ground, and the air was heavy in his lungs. He had driven off in the jeep the army had sent for him, watching her there on the porch and slammed the door. His cold fingers found the locket, making a Three years later they were on the road to Moscow. Over a thousand miles lay behind, a dead man on every foot of those miles. Yet victory was near. The Russians had not yet used the H-bomb the threat of annihilation by the retaliation forces had been too great. He had done well in the war, and had been decorated many times for bravery in action. Now he felt the victory that seemed to be in the air, and he had wished it would come quickly, so that he might return to her. Home. The very feel of the word was everything a battle-weary soldier needed to make him fight harder and live longer. "Heavy bombers!" The alarm had sounded, and the men had headed for But the planes had passed over, the sun glinting on their bellies, targets. When the all-clear had sounded, the men clambered from their screaming noises which had jarred the people from sleep in time to die. The defending planes roared into the sky to intercept the on-rushing bombers. The horrendous battle split the universe. Many bombers fell, victims of fanatical suicide planes, or of missiles that streaked across the sky which none could escape. But too many bombers got through, dropping their deadly cargo upon the cities, where men had not died quickly and mercifully, but had rotted The retaliatory forces had roared away to bomb the Russian cities. Few, if any, had returned. Too much blood and life were on their hands. Those who had remained alive had found a resting place on the crown of some distant mountain. Others had preferred the silent peaceful The war had ended. To no avail. Neither side had won. Most of the cities and the majority of the population of both countries had been destroyed. Even their governments had vanished, leaving a silent nothingness. The armies that remained were without leaders, without sources of supplies, save what They were alone now, a group of tired, battered men, for whom life held nothing. Their families had long since died, their bodies turned to dust, their spirits fled on the winds to a new world. Yet these remnants of an army must return—or at least try. Their exodus was just beginning. Somehow he had managed to hold together the few men left from his force. He had always nourished the hope that she might still be alive. And now that the war was over he had to return—had to know whether she was still waiting for him. They had started the long trek. Throughout Europe anarchy reigned. He and his men were alone. All they could do now was fight. Finally they had commandeered a small yacht, and they had taken to the sea. After months of storms and bad luck, they had been shipwrecked and had been found by a fisherman's family. Many months he had spent swimming and fishing, recovering his strength, inquiring about the United States. The Mexicans had spoken with fear of the land across the been only partially destroyed were devoid of people. The land across and the few people who might have survived, were crazed and maimed by the blasts. Few men had dared cross the Rio Grande into "El Mundo gris de Noviembre"—the November world. Those who had, had never returned. waded into the muddy waters and somehow landed on the American side. In ruins of what had once been their cities. He had walked through them, He had been on the trail for a long time. His food was nearly exhausted. The mountains were just beginning, and he hoped to find food there. He had not found food, but his luck had been with him. He had empty, but there were cans of food and a rifle and many shells. He had remained there a long time—how long he could not tell, for he could had taken the horse, the rifle and what food was left, and once again started the long journey home. The farther north he went, the more life seemed to have survived. He had seen great herds of horses like his own, stampeding across the But he knew he was closer now. Closer to home. He recognized the land. what it had once been. He could not be more than two days' ride away. all would be well, and his long journey would be over. He awoke and stretched the cramped muscles of his body. At the edge of the water he removed his clothes and stared at himself in the rippling mirror. His muscles were lean and hard, evenly placed throughout the length of his frame. A deep ridge ran down the length of his torso, separating the muscles, making the chest broad. Well satisfied with his body, he plunged into the cold water, deep down, until he thought his lungs would burst every pore. He dried himself and dressed. Conqueror was eating the long He would ride all day and the next night. And he would be home. burning stream within his body. But day at last gave way to night, and very edge. Even then he might not have seen it had not the horse He turned quickly away and did not look back. he was home he would build new furniture, and the house would be even mumbling mouth. The eyes, turned momentarily toward the window, were empty of life. "No, no!" he cried soundlessly. This was not his house. In his delirium he had only imagined he had one skeleton-like finger and stood, turning the ring slowly as if trying to decipher some inscription inside it. He knew then. He had come home. Slowly he moved toward the door. A great weakness was upon him. His feet were stones, reluctant to leave the earth. His body was a weed, shriveled by thirst. He grasped the doorknob and clung to it, looking up at the night sky and trying to draw strength from the wind that passed over him. It was no use. There was no strength. Only fear—a kind of fear he had never known. his neck until he found the locket and the clasp which had held it safely through endless nightmare days and nights. He slipped the clasp faces of those he loved, but grey ghosts from the past. Even the ruby He ran. Away from the house. To the large horse with a horn in the center of its forehead, like a unicorn. Once in the saddle, the spurt of strength left him. His shoulders slumped, his head dropped onto his chest. Conqueror trotted away, the sound of his hooves echoing hollowly in the

<question>:
Would the main character had fought as hard in World War III if he knew that his family would not be home when he returned?

<options>:
A No, because he would be too devastated to fight.
B Yes, because he wanted to make sure that he and his men won World War III.
C No, because he would have nothing to come back home to anyways.
D Yes, because he was adamant on surviving World War III.

<answer>:

C