AN- This happened to me a month or so ago, bit it's still fresh in my mind, thought I'd share it.

One night, I found myself talking to a friend of mine, he wore his usual black shirt and under armour shorts, and he sat in my room and I had opened a Budweiser crate, and like we used to do when we lived next to each others room in the block, we sat together and I gave him a bottle, he took it  and we were talking as I opened my own bottle, about the time we used to drive to McDonald's after an exercise or the time I grabbed a laptop, all the stupid stuff the army does and eventually we spoke about our last tour in Afghanistan.

We were on the same patrols, but some reason I didn't remember when he got back, because I don't recall him on our flight.

I asked him how he got back, he said "I didn't get back brother". I felt numb for a reason, and sad, I can still feel tear welling in my eyes, I get a light chuckle and asked him what he meant. "Your not getting philosophical on me again, are you ?" I said and chuckled again, he used to jokingly get poetic at times.

He was quiet for a moment, and shock his head with a mild smirk.

Then he asked if I remember that he died just before we came back, I looked back at him and he was in full kit, he had blood on his chess plate. And on his head, but he didn't seem fazed about it in the slightest.

I said to him "how did you get home ?" And his reply hit me like a brick.
"You brought me home", he smiled and then I blinked, and I'm alone again.
There's an unopened bottle on the set of draws next to me, where he was sitting.

I guess he didn't want me to drink alone, it was good to see you again Ronnie. It's just not the same without you, I'll see you at the re-org brother.
Fortune Favours The Brave.