He lingers by the gate for a while before he passes through. Endless rows of identical white stones spill out on the vast lawn in front of him, silent and pristine beneath the towering flagpost.
He doesn’t need to check his notes - he’s memorised them all, knows exactly how many stones between him and his destination. He checks them anyway. First Sergeant William Barnes is at Section T, Site 2397. His biographical details are scant: KIA in Vietnam, survived by a wife and one son.
The son is in Nebraska now. Bucky doesn’t know the exact address. He has no reason to follow.
He hasn’t brought a wreath. Billy, he remembers with a hazy sort of feeling that might be fondness if it weren’t so distant, was allergic to pretty much every flower under the sun.