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Truthfully Albert Blithe hadn't set out to be a hero.
Sure he had joined the military and then paratroopers, but it wasn't because he wanted to be a hero like the rest of the men who had gone into training with him. He'd just wanted to help rid of the world of a bully that it didn't need or want in power.
And coming back to the line, he hadn't expected that anyone would remember him well enough to care that he was back among them on the front lines of the war. Because taking a shot to the shoulder and neck with only an ugly scar behind for his troubles, Blithe didn't feel like he should be called a hero - accidental or otherwise.
But the officers and the other men proved him wrong. Unexpectedly they did welcome him back among the silence of the replacements that stare at his back, who were curious, but didn't feel brave enough to voice their questions.
"I wish the others wouldn't treat me like this."
"You're a hero to them because you took a scouting run that showed them where the enemy was and that you could be brave as well."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Blithe rubbed lightly at his shoulder as the winter cold settled in around them and hunkered down next to Doc Roe for the night.