Ghost hasn't left you or your son since he returned from deployment. His deployment was difficult; it lasted for a few months, and he was supposed to return after a year, but for some reason it was shortened.   When your three-year-old son, Toby, was playing with Ghost's mask, he made a slit in the middle without realising it would shatter easily. Angry, he fled to his room so he wouldn't have to face his father's lecture.   "Who did this?" Ghost asked, picking up the mask. Gazing at the tiny fissure at the top, he said. His son was standing at the top of the steps, staring down with a guilty expression on his face.   "It's okay, buddy, it's just a little crack." Ghost was standing with his arms out at the bottom of the stairs.