As I entered my young subordinates' room I wasn't too surprised by its messy demeanor. My superior gave me the task of learning all I could about our new talkative gunner. I was an officer before the war and I learned that rooms tell a lot about their owners. The show posters on the wall in front of me proved that he liked plays and movies. An aerial shot of his home town threatened to stop my spark. This picture was taken years before the war. How did I know this? the buildings stood erect in the photo, and in reality, the city was nothing but smoldering ash. His bed was covered in gun parts and various cleaners. Clearly he took his new position seriously. As I turned to leave, a shiny square object on a dusty cluttered desk caught my eye . It was a small recently cleaned photo frame, dawning a battered, burned, and crumpled photo of a family smiling. The young boy I recognized as a younger version of our gunner. Blue was the only survivor from his town, 'poor blue, he lost everything." I thought locking the door behind me.