I awake from a dream filled sleep, in a small clearing, surrounded by trees. I hear a soft rustling in the brush and across the clearing I see someone ease out of the cover. I notice he is dressed in OD, with a steel pot tilted back on his brow, an old M1 slung across his shoulder. Then another appears and another, all dressed in familiar yet unfamiliar garb, British Red, Yankee Blue, Union Blue and Rebel butternut, OD Green and Fieldgrey.
We greet each other as strangers, yet not. As we talk more arrive and we mix and join in camaraderie, old friend and foe alike. We talk of friends we have known, places we have been and things only we can understand and never speak of to others. Our rucks slide from our backs, to rest in the peace of each other in the clear air.
We share a smoke, a drink from the canteen, or a picture of home. We talk of things that make us brothers and sisters, comrades in a special club that only we can join. We remember the others, the fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters and children we have left, and now meet again, here in our presence they are invited in.
We rest in the comfort of familiar feelings and surroundings. We and our families come to realize, yet again, that we are not alone, not forgotten, not forsaken. We give our thanks to those who went before and showed us the way.
I feel revitalized, reborn in a way that most cannot comprehend. As I look around me I find the brotherhood of belonging. I suddenly notice that rucks are being picked up, settled back into place, as they groups break up. I see friends, new and old start to drift back into the timber.
I lift my pack and start to settle it in when I hear a silence from those around me. I look and see faces and eyes, sad yet firm. They tell me I cannot come, that I have yet another mission still to accomplish. It is a long and formidable one. I must teach our children and their children of things like, honor, duty and freedom. What it means and what the cost is. I must help them defend and preserve these things so future generations might flourish and grow strong. I must stand beside them and lead them in these things, even though it is not easy or politically correct.
With tears unashamedly falling I understand their message. With shoulders sagging under the load I know they are right and that I am not and never will be alone in this mission. With a whispered farewell I watch them depart, into the brush, into my heart.
Farewell my brothers and sisters,,,,,,,,,
Keep The Faith,,,,,,,,
Charlie Mike.
