Short Story
He has heard the sounds of the trumpets, the bagpipes, a few bugles, and trombones. The wreath laying ceremonies at the various locations over the years are welcome. The poppies strewn around beautifully decorated cemeteries, and the badges of honor worn by surviving soldiers all look so grand. But his mind goes back to the times on the battlefield.
He recalls one day when his platoon was under severe threat. Gunfire rained on them for hours and they were unable to answer. Rockets of fire swirled and swished and blasted their way through the bases. Comrades fell. Survivors were in agony from their wounds. Blood spilled and sprayed and pasted on walls and on the faces of the wounded and even the unscatched.
Fortunately he survived. His infantry rallied. They got backup from some fighter jets. "Fox 2, Fight's On", was radioed to the lieutenant in charge. A barrage of bombs struck the enemy with precision. The air assault was relentless. The enemy retreated, leaving mangled tanks and wrecked bodies strewn for miles on the ground.
The Private picked up his injured buddies. He were assisted by the medical team. His dead comrades were placed into body bags and left there waiting to be identified and transported.
The large crowd watched the solemn event. The bagpipes skirled. A trumpet played,"The Last Post." An official laid a wreath. A few wiped their tears. Some kid has lost a dad. A woman wept for her deceased husband. The service is over. The Private almost missed all of it though he was there. He fought hard to be present, but the memories of his lost brothers won the battle in his mind. © Wallace Paul May 2024
He has heard the sounds of the trumpets, the bagpipes, a few bugles, and trombones. The wreath laying ceremonies at the various locations over the years are welcome. The poppies strewn around beautifully decorated cemeteries, and the badges of honor worn by surviving soldiers all look so grand. But his mind goes back to the times on the battlefield.
He recalls one day when his platoon was under severe threat. Gunfire rained on them for hours and they were unable to answer. Rockets of fire swirled and swished and blasted their way through the bases. Comrades fell. Survivors were in agony from their wounds. Blood spilled and sprayed and pasted on walls and on the faces of the wounded and even the unscatched.
Fortunately he survived. His infantry rallied. They got backup from some fighter jets. "Fox 2, Fight's On", was radioed to the lieutenant in charge. A barrage of bombs struck the enemy with precision. The air assault was relentless. The enemy retreated, leaving mangled tanks and wrecked bodies strewn for miles on the ground.
The Private picked up his injured buddies. He were assisted by the medical team. His dead comrades were placed into body bags and left there waiting to be identified and transported.
The large crowd watched the solemn event. The bagpipes skirled. A trumpet played,"The Last Post." An official laid a wreath. A few wiped their tears. Some kid has lost a dad. A woman wept for her deceased husband. The service is over. The Private almost missed all of it though he was there. He fought hard to be present, but the memories of his lost brothers won the battle in his mind. © Wallace Paul May 2024
We salute all veterans on this day.