From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Wed, 8 Nov 2000 22:22:55 -0600
Subject: A Good Soldier...     by Shawen A. Greer by Shawen A. Greer
Source: direct

Reply To: shawen@altavista.com


  A Good Soldier
  By Shawen A. Greer
  
  Summary:   A Skinner reflective piece set during
  Within.
  Rated:   G
  Classification:   V
  Feedback graciously accepted at shawen@altavista.com 
  You will find my other stories and poems at The Hall
  of X http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Quasar/8840
  Special thanks to the wonderfully talented Susan 
  Frankovich for her insight to this story.
  
       ************************
  The naked trees stretch to the gray sky above as if they
  reach for him, outstretched and beckoning him home. 
  They spread their branches across the great expanse of
  this lonely and silent field as if to catch him if he falls
  before he joins the white markers below.  
  
  I find myself here in the presence of the fallen, fellow
  soldiers that time has forgotten.  The visitors come to
  see the rows of white stone that stretch as far over the
  hills as their eyes can see, but they are recognized as
  only part of the whole, as a singular piece of the
  awesome scene that this place truly is.
  
  But what of those men beneath the chiseled names? 
  Weren't they sons and fathers alike?  Did they feel the
  sting of love and loss only later to taste the sweetness
  of passion?  And what of those they left behind?  Were
  they empty as we are without him?  
  
  I make my way down this narrow Crook Walk that I
  have traveled many times of late, listening to the voice
  of the wind as it talks to the branches above me,
  waiting for it to whisper its secrets.  Waiting for it to
  tell me where I can find him, selfishly for myself, but
  mostly to complete her.  For though she insists that she
  is fine, I see the distant look in her eyes as she thinks of
  him.  I can hear the subtle catch in her voice when she
  speaks of him in a whisper as if uttering the name of an
  angel.
  
  The trees seem to part as I approach and the awesome
  white marble rises up before me.  The dull thud of my
  heels on this cold stone path resembles the deadened
  beats of my heart as day after day I carry on, searching. 
  The sting of failure and loss is only greater when she is
  at my side, with her pregnancy the constant reminder of
  what is at stake if I should fail them again.  She
  believed in me and I failed her, like so many times
  before.  Her trust was something that I had to earn, and
  I had repaid that trust with failure.
  
  I had lost him!
  
  Leadership carried with it a heavy burden, the
  misfortune to carry on as those under your command
  fell.  So it had been in my days in Vietnam and so it
  continued even now as time and time again it seemed
  that fate dealt me the guilty hand of leadership and of
  loss.
  
  The echo seems deafening as I slowly ascend the steps
  and wander the hallowed hallway to the Tomb until I
  drift silently to the balcony overlooking the honored
  sarcophagus.   I turn and begin my descent of the wide
  staircase and take my place before the tomb as I sit and
  observe the methodical pace of the sentinel.
  
  I am alone but for a young father that stands at the rail
  with a redheaded little boy, who at his father's direction
  has removed his baseball cap.  His eyes are full of
  youth and wonder as he watches the steady march
  before him, subconsciously clicking his heels just
  seconds behind the formal turn of the guard.  The sight
  of this father and son brings forbidden tears to my
  weary eyes for it is evident in their reaction to one
  another that they are indeed a family, and again I feel
  the loss for the baby that she carries.
  
  I force myself to recognize the reality of this place, for
  those that lie beneath the terrace paving were brought
  home.  Though unsure of their names or their lives,
  they were brought home, for a good soldier never
  leaves a man behind.  
  
  The chilling sound of taps plays in the distance
  followed shortly by fire shots that resonate in the heavy
  air surrounding this place, and I jump for a second in
  surprise.  But the sentinel before me never flinches, for
  a good soldier is always prepared and always stays true
  to his duty.
  
  It is here in this place in the presence of this young
  man, unknown to me as always though influential in the
  rekindling, that I stoke my own eternal flame.  For I
  will not fail them this time.  For a good soldier never
  retreats.  It is through fire that iron is made strong and I
  will endure whatever heat is necessary to bring him
  home to the empty loved ones that wait for him.  I will
  not allow him to become a marker in the grand scheme
  of this world to be forgotten.  He has a story and the
  end is yet unwritten.  She and I together will find him
  because we have to.  She has to for the sake of her
  child, but I must for her. 
  
  My demons are once again as silent as the air around
  me.  I take my leave of the unknowing sentinel and
  utter a silent prayer for the boy enclosed by his father's
  strong arm.  We leave for Arizona in an hour, and
  somehow, I will bring this soldier home.