Tom pursed his lips to keep from smiling, as it was unseemly to show emotion over such a thing.

Of course, Captain Winters could see right through it. “Unclench your jaw. You’re allowed to have good news.”

“What about specialist?” He was skipping over a rank to get there.

Winters folded his hand in his lap and sighed. “I need good leaders, Tom. We’ve lost a lot of men, and the reinforcements we’re getting will be green. I need someone to show them the ropes, and I know that you’ll do a great job in the role of corporal. The sky’s the limit for men like you. This is just the beginning.”

Tom felt a knot form in his throat. Winters was about his age. But this past year, he’d become like a father to him. A common sentiment when rank mattered more than what year you were born. So the praise—a rare thing from his actual father—meant the world. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you?”

“No need to thank me. You’ve earned it. Something to write your mama about.” Then he winked. “And maybe a girl back home?”

Tom was glad he hadn’t finished his letter to Margaret. This would be wonderful news to share.

“I hope so, Captain. I hope so.”

“I’ll have the patch for you by tonight. You good with a needle and thread?”

“My mother taught me how to hem my own pants. She’d buy them long, hand me a needle and thread, and have me sew them to size, letting them out as I grew.”

Winters smiled. “Mine too. She would have had my head if I’d ever tried to argue that it was woman’s work. Personally, I think you put some mothers in the brass’s place and this war ends soon. And would have been over long ago.”

It was Tom’s turn to grin. “I think I agree with you, Captain.”

Winters stood up and patted Tom on the knee. “Good man, Powell. You’ll get through life well if you value a woman as she should be valued. Congratulations again.” He walked out, leaving Tom wishing he could have stayed.

He’d wanted to ask Winters if he planned to stay in the military. If he thought that life as an officer was compatible with marriage. He’d not given it serious consideration before.

Not before Margaret. She’d upturned his certainty for what his future would look like and made him question it altogether.

A medic came over and wrapped Tom’s ankle in gauze, telling him to ice it and stay off it for the rest of the day, but that he’d be ready for service again tomorrow.

Tom hobbled out, thankful that his barracks were next to the medic’s tent. He sank into his bunk, grateful for a rare day that left him feeling full of warm emotions.