He thought he was being quiet when he slowly opened the front door, papers and suitcase in hand. He thought maybe he'd get out of the house without the boys coming and making this all too difficult for him. The steps that led upstairs creaked behind him and he turned. The oldest blond child stood on the bottom step in his white nightgown. Blue eyes started tearing up, and a quiet choked-down sob escaped.

Honestly, he should have known that he'd be stopped by those sad cerulean eyes.

"I'll be back before you know it." Liar.

"Oh come on Alfred…don't cry. I'll come back home when the war's over." How do you know that's true?

"I promise. " Promises can be broken.

"I swear." Swears are easily forgotten.

"Now listen here lad," he put down his small weathered luggage and dropped on one knee to see eye-to-eye with the little sobbing boy, "Even if they bomb us, even if there's gas, even if I'm captured, I'll come back. I'll be right back here; at home with you. You just have to believe that I'll come home. Can you do that, Al?" Yes, but how do I know it will work?

"It will work because I said it will." Things don't just happen because you say so.

"I know that you don't believe me." Why would I? Matthew's papa never came home, and he said he would, too.

"I know that I'm asking a lot of you; taking care of Mattie and Peter while I'm away." I can't replace you. What if I fail?

"Alfred, before you can do anything great, you have to believe you can get there. I believe I'll come home, and you're going to believe that I will too. Won't you?" With all my heart, I will.

"Then do this one thing for me…." I'm listening.

"Tell the boys that I'll come home." Only if you promise you will.

"I will." Are you sure?

"I'm positive." But I'm not.

"Alfred, I can't stay any longer, or I'll risk missing the train. You have to let go of my jacket." But if I hold on, you might not leave me.

He carefully removed the little fingers from the front of his grey shirt and thick trench-coat. "I'm off now. Goodbye Alfred. Be their hero for me."

He turned and looked over his shoulder at the small brick house one last time before heading off in the morning fog toward the train station.

The boy opened the door and went back inside. It was early, but both Mattie and Peter were at the living room windowsill where they'd been watching. All three boys stood quietly for what felt like hours before they ran to meet each other and form a ring of sloppy tears and weeping cries. One of them had already lost someone, and they all feared enough for triple the number of boys sitting in a messy pile on the floor.

Alfred didn't forget the promise he made to come back.

Matthew remembered his swear not to leave them forever.

Peter believed that he'd come home again.