"The boy's father boarded the aircraft alongside his son but wouldn't speak to us. He just glared at us with his sun-darkened, wrinkled eyes. It was as if he expected us to try to kill them both at any minute. The little boy, on the other hand, quickly stole our hearts. We could see that he was in pain and utterly terrified. The sound of the helicopter was probably the loudest, most frightening thing he had ever experienced, and Thor, who was checking his vitals, was clearly scaring him. It was at that time my medic won my loyalty forever. I had never really noticed, but apparently, Thor carried a Beanie Baby-sized teddy bear on his vest for times just like this. When he pulled it from its pouch and then lifted the boy's hand to place the bear on his chest, the little boy's fear disappeared. The smile that briefly crossed his face before he snuggled into the teddy bear was the type of moment that reminded us why we were over there. After we got him back to the base and into the hospital, I couldn't seem to get him out of my mind. I kept going back to visit this little angel, as I often did to my other patients, to see how he was doing. Each day he looked a little better. On the third day, I came in to see him, but he wasn't there. I was disappointed not to see him but was so happy that he had recovered enough to go home. One of the nurses who knew me walked over to me as I smiled down at his empty bed. "I'm so sorry. I guess it was just too much for his little lungs." He hadn't gotten better- he had contracted pneumonia and died the previous night. I walked out trying to convince myself that it was okay, that he had died peacefully, but no matter how I painted it in my mind, to this day I cry for that sweet casualty of this terrible war."