It would always be hard, losing a patient. No matter the sheer amount of casualties caused by the war, it would still create a burning sting in your sternum - not being able to save one of the airmen brought back to Thorpe Abbotts. Never mind the constant thinking about the ones who never even made it out of their planes. You sit behind a storage building on base, on a small wooden crate. Watching the trees shift in the wind helped everything slow down in your mind.

The cigarette you're nursing is burning close to the filter now, but it's a voice that brings you to stub it out. You can recognise the gentle drawl of Buck Cleven, and during your time on base you'd came to learn he wasn't a fan of smoking. You look over at him, and put on your best smile as he slowly approaches you, that careful look on his face as always.