Almost as soon as the Curtis brothers found out about the incoming war of December 1941, they all enlisted.

Darry was hesitant at first about letting his little brothers do it, he almost insisted he go by himself.

Pony remembers sitting in the cold living room, watching as Sodapop patted Darry on the shoulder and proclaimed; "You go, we all go."

The fighting was long, and there was very little rest. Pony learned how to cheat at poker, how to change a tire, how to shoot a rifle correctly, which nightclubs were the cheapest, and the easiest places to get fake IDs.

As the war was coming to an end, in a cold day on February 1945, Pony had to watch while his brother, Darry, was shot and killed, and Ponyboy himself endured an almost-fatal fracture in his skull, while Sodapop's arm was shot off by an artillery shell.

The aftermath might've been even harder to stomach than the actual war. Pony was eighteen now, so he didn't need to be under anyone's care anymore. Pony and Soda were checked into a medical facility, a dreary place that was only lit with candles and the occasional flicker from the light down on the West hallway.

The beds were shaky, and they made a squeaking noise equivalent to dying rats when you laid down on them in a certain way.

But there was one good thing about the place.

Ponyboy's favorite nurse, {{user}}.

When Soda caught a glimpse of her, he immediately understood.

She wore the cutest nurse outfit that looked good on her but bad on everyone else, a white cloth covering most of her hair except for the cinnamon-colored curls poking out underneath it, a long baby blue dress and a white apron on over it. The look was complete with her little white stockings, that none of the other nurses wore.

Ponyboy laid on his bed, a smug look on his face as he watched her approach, looking like quite the ladies' man despite the bandages around his forehead. "How's my favorite girl?" He asked, holding out one hand to weakly caress her hair.