Memorial Day - By Mark Andersen

This is a work of fiction, none of the names are true, nor is any of this based on any real event.

Memorial Day - By Mark Andersen

The grizzled old man arrived at his destination, his back hunched over, using a cane and with what combat veterans describe as the thousand yard stare. A gaze that looks right through you, a look that says he has seen the horrors of war and that he cannot forget them some sixty years later. A vast sea of white lay before him. It was as if someone had planted the seeds for the garden of stone that was before him, ready for harvest.

“How Many?” He asked himself, knowing that while there was a finite answer, the true answer was too many. He trudged his way across the field of marble, stopping at each headstone to take a flag out of his backpack and placing a flag in front of each marker. He read every name and calculated every age. He was tempted to say that a few were to young to be here; however, he realized that all the men and women that were here were all to young to be here, every soul here was cut down in its prime.

“What a waste.” He exclaimed while shaking his head.

Silent and respectful of the sacrifices of those just below his feet he soldiered on, he was determined to complete his mission before nightfall. Across the field he could hear a lone bugler play taps, the mournful sound echoed across the landscape. The forlorn notes brought back memories of long ago when he was a much younger man. He could still hear their voices, still see their faces as if they were standing next to him. The thoughts of the war came rushing back to him. He remembered each death, he was one of a handful that had survived the entire war. They were so young then, so full of life and ready to take on the world. Few of them had that chance, many of them were chewed up on foreign soil, never to see home again. They gave their lives for a cause they may not have understood or believed in, but, they knew that their country needed them, so they answered the call. He could see himself as a young man trying to comprehend the savagery around him. Trying to understand why he lived and others died.

As he was reflecting on his past life a young man with close cropped hair, a muscular build and the thousand yard stare approached the old man.

“Hello sir, may I help you put those flags out?”

“Well, this is kind of a mission I promised myself I would complete for my fallen brothers. It is something I have done every year since 1946. There were a lot fewer stones then, every year it seems like more and more stones are here. And every year this mission takes me longer and longer to complete.”

“Sir, I have fallen brethren here as well, it would be an honor to help you.”

“Where and when did you serve son?”

“I was with the Bravo company 1/502nd Infantry Battalion, 101st Airborne Division, I served in both Iraq and Afghanistan.”

“Awful business is what those wars are. I would be honored to have a fellow Screaming Eagle help me. What is your name son?”

“Troy Miller, sir.”

“Troy, I am Mike Samson, I was with the the 101st during WWII, I jumped into Normandy and was with the 101st throughout the war. What was your rank?”

“I was Corporal sir.”

“You don’t need to call me sir, I was never anything more than a Private.”

The two of them soldiered on, placing a flag in front of each headstone. They talked about the different wars and how the wars had changed them.

“What are your thoughts on war.” Asked the old man.

“My thoughts on war?” the young man said

“Yeah, what are your thoughts on war?”

“I feel that as a species we have great potential, yet that potential gets wasted by men with big egos. Those big egos do nothing more than send young men to die, those that live, like you and me, we don’t come home the same. We are broken, yet, we try to hide it as best we can. All the while the great leaders proclaim the young men are heros. Nothing is learned, nothing is gained, and the next generation of young men is groomed to go to war for men with big egos. There has to be a better way.”

“You are right on the money son. My only wish throughout my life is that we would someday stop adding young men and women to this cemetery. Where one day Memorial Day would no longer be necessary. But, I don’t think that dream will ever happen.”

The young man nodded in agreement as they approached the last headstone. The soil was freshly turned, another addition to the fallen.

“I have to get going.” Said the young man.

“You sure you don’t want to go and get a beer with me?”

“I would love to, but I have to go.”

“All right, It has been a pleasure to meet you.”

The old man watched as the young man disappeared over the horizon, he then looked down at the marble headstone,

Troy S. Miller
Corporal
U.S. Army
1990-2010
Operation Enduring Freedom

The old men wept for the first time in 60 years, all he could think was “What a waste.”