The worn soldier stumbled over a fallen warrior and landed heavily on the ground. His gun flew from his grasp and settled a few feet away. The scarce grass felt cold under his fingertips and the dirt was solid and grainy against his scarred cheek. The taste of warm, salty blood mixed with soil within his mouth. Voices created a din that was only punctured by the gunshots which rang like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Slowly, the soldier lifted his head as to not draw attention to himself in his vulnerable state. All around, he could see corpses of both sides lying in pools of crimson. Their wounds were deep and savage as if an animal had caused them. He shivered when an icy wind stung his exposed skin. Taking a deep breath, the smoky odor of gunpowder and rust filled his lungs. The smell made him sick, but he held back the instinctive urge to vomit. Feeling dejected he tried to remember his reason for ever joining the army.
A flicker caught his eye and he raised his gaze to the American flag which snapped violently in the vicious breeze. It waved high in the middle of all the chaos with the bold colors red, white, and blue symbolizing freedom and hope. The soldier found it hard to believe that something so fragile and thin could give him the answer he needed. He was striving for his family and for his country. They needed him.
Sending up a quick prayer to the Lord, the soldier reached for his artillery and resumed the fight; only, now, with a smile on his swollen lips.
Let's not forget our wonderful heroes this Memorial Day. I encourage you to reach out to someone who lost a loved one for the fight for your freedom and say thank you.
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