Steven's been in bed for days, the entire house is dark with the curtains drawn. I'm sitting in the floor outside of his closed bedroom door, looking at the doorknob expectantly. There's a muffled noise and I lower my head sympathetically before I lightly hit the door to let him know I'm out here. He needs a hug.

Mr. Steven Meeks,

When I hear no noise, I ask him to let me in again and paw at the door again. I don't like him being alone, Not since I saw him reading a letter on the couch, a hand clapped over his mouth; convulsing as he cried. When I jumped on the couch next to him, he squeezed me so hard I couldn't breathe. "Charlie's dead, Coon…"He whispered. Charlie? Charlie dead? I dwelt on the matter later, what was important then was Steven, and he still is.

We don't know each other directly but we both have a common acquaintance… a Mr. Charles Dalton.

I hear shuffling and the white door opens just enough to let me slip through as Steven shuffles back to the bed and buries himself in the duvet. I leap on top of him, kneading at what I think could be his hip and ask if he's ok, trying to get some sense of life out of him. I miss it when he used to pick me up and spin me around as he listened to the radio, singing along with the music. He was so happy…

I am writing to you on his behalf because I know how important you are to each other. I also know because you are not a blood relative, you will not be receiving the news I am regrettably sending you.

I ask him if he's okay again and he throws back the covers on his head and looks at me. His eyes are dull and red, I ask his permission to hug him as I cautiously step through the dips and hills of the duvet. When he doesn't move, I rub against his bare chest and he pulls me in close. "What am I gonna do, Coon?" His voice cracks and he bites his lip. "What am I going to do… without Charlie?" He whispers into my fur. Stray tears roll down his face as I try to comfort him. I don't know, I tell him, what are you going to do? There's a reason we cats try to net get too attached to who we mate. This is that reason.

Charles Dalton…Charlie was shot and killed instantly June 12th, 1964 and I can't tell you how sorry I am for your loss.

I had been a present from Charlie to Steven on his twentieth birthday, the day they had also decided to rent out a duplex together which sat fifteen minutes away from their college. What? You're surprised Charlie went to the same college as Steven? Don't be. Charlie was a genius with no drive and Steven is a genius because he studied so hard and has a purpose for his life or... did. "Coon…" I lick Steven's hand as I'm sure he's recalling me as his present from Charlie. It was one of the happier times.

You may have noticed his Dog Tags in the envelope…I thought it was only right that you got them.

He breaths a laugh through his tears as I lick his palm, one of his ticklish areas. "You won't leave me, will you Coon?" I don't reply as I purr and curl up next to him. We both know I'll leave, one day but then again, so will he and it'll be without his years of Charlie that he imagined.

I don't think I have to tell you what a great guy Charlie was. He was my first friend here and always looked out for me-he saved my life more than once. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to save his.

He'll never see Charlie smile again, Charlie won't be there when he graduates college, Charlie's laugh will be come a memory as will the smirk he wore.

I'll be sending you all of his belongings, his parents don't deserve any of them. I just want to say that he really loves you-I say that because love isn't something that can be destroyed by any ammunition. The thought of you always kept him going, always kept him smiling.

They'll never fight over pillows again or dance to ridiculous Christmas songs in the middle of summer. Steven will never again watch the pleasure on Charlie's face after eating banana pancakes or laugh when he trips over himself in the park. Charlie wouldn't splash him at the fountain anymore or tackle him in bed at night.

I was in the 25th Infantry Division with him and I can't tell you how much I'll miss Charlie. The last poem he recited was Oh My Love's a Red Rose by Robert Burns. I somehow feel that's important to impart to you.

"You know what Coon?" Steven asked as he rubbed my head and I purred against his hand. "We're just going to have to honor him in the best way we know how, lot's of red, and lot's of gold…"

My sincerest condolences,

Private First Class Milton W. Warbeck