The heavy humidity of the Pacific hung thick in the air, making the canvas tent feel even smaller than it was. Snafu leaned back on his cot, arms folded behind his head, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. Beside him, Sledge sat on his own cot, carefully folding a letter home and tucking it into the breast pocket of his worn uniform.

"Think he'll be a talker or a snorer?" Snafu drawled, his eyes flicking to the third empty cot lined up beside theirs.

Sledge shot him a look, his Southern drawl smooth but teasing. "Maybe he'll be quiet enough so you can finally hear yourself think."

They chuckled, but the air in the tent buzzed with anticipation. Against the opposite wall, their gear sat neatly stacked, a sharp contrast to the bare cot that waited for their new tentmate. Three cots, one cramped row along the canvas wall. Two narrow flaps served as entrances, letting in the occasional breath of air but mostly more heat. Somewhere out there, their new companion was on his way, and both men felt the weight of the same unspoken hope: whoever it was, they’d better last.