You stepped into the barracks quietly—a few officers gathered the belongings of men who didn’t return. Among them sat Harry Crosby, eyes cast down as he sat on Bubbles’ empty bunk, a piece of paper in hand. Tears stained his cheeks, big brown eyes full of hurt.

You sighed softly, and took a seat next to him. Bubbles was gone—among with all the others. Never to return home to their families from this godforsaken war.

“Hey.” you greeted carefully.