Burden of Command
Author's Note: This is dedicated to my fallen brothers and sisters in arms. Those who have given everything for their country. May their sacrifice never be in vain, and may we never take what they so valiently fought and died for, for granted. Remember that freedom isn't free. It is paid for in the blood and pain of those who stand against those who wish to do us harm, and their family's pain. I would strongly advise listening to the song, Adaigo for Strings by Samuel Barber while you read this. It fits almost perfectly with the story.
I got out of the car and shut the door with an unintentional slam. The driver walked over to me and asked, "Are you sure you want to do this, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, I am," I replied. Pain from my wounds flared up. I looked down at my uniform, stained with dried blood. My blood and his blood. I hadn't even changed into a fresh one since I got off the line; it was the same one that I had received the wounds in... I knew I was going to get chewed out for this, but it was something I had to do. I owed him at least that much. As we walked towards the house, I thought about what I was about to do. My very soul cried out in pain and sorrow, and I felt a cold icy feeling in my chest. Tears stung my eyes as I limped towards the door.
I felt the icy feeling in my chest turn into a burning pain. With each step I took towards that door, the burning became hotter. The closer to the door I got, the more intense the pain in my chest became. Even the pain from my barley-healed wounds couldn't compare to the pain that was in my heart, in my soul.
Eventually the pain from my wounds faded more and more into the background as I got within a few yards of the door. I fought valiantly against the emotions raging inside of me. I knew it was a losing battle, but I fought all the harder. I had to be strong. He would have wanted me to be strong for them. I knew from the moment I became an Officer that this could happen. I prayed each time we went out, that we all could come back. My luck eventually ran out...
As I look back, I thought about what I could have done better. What did I do wrong? What could I have done so that I wouldn't be here doing this. Where did I screw up? I felt the tears that I was holding back come streaming out of my eyes. I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I looked over and saw the chaplain. I could see the pain in his eyes. He must have done this hundreds of times. How could he stand to do this job? It was taking everything I had in me to do this, just this one time, and here he is after doing it who knows how many times. He squeezed my shoulder encouragingly.
"It takes a brave soul to do this. The only solace I take from doing this job is that I can start the healing process. While the pain never truly goes away, time does mend these wounds. You are very brave in doing this, and even more so while in your condition. He couldn't have asked for a better superior," he said. It did nothing to help the pain that I felt, but I knew he was right. As we continued, I could not help but think of him.
The image of him just laying there, bleeding all over the ground. He was lying on his back, staring at the sky. The image looked so peaceful. If he wasn't covered in blood, I would have swore he was just staring at the sky like he would always do before he turned in for bed. It was so serene that I almost forgot what was happening at the time. The image haunted me at night in my sleep. Not five minutes before, we had been talking and joking with each other like we always did. Then in an instant, it was over. We would never talk, or joke, or laugh, or cry, or encourage each other ever again. He was gone... and I survived.
Without noticing it, we had arrived at the door. Before the chaplain could, I knocked loudly on the door. Within moments, the door opened. An older woman answered the door. When she saw me in my blood stained uniform, her eyes widened in shock.
"Mrs. Johnson?" I asked, despite the fact I knew the answer. She must have known what we were there for as she dropped to the ground and started to wail.
"My baby! Oh my poor baby!" she wailed as a man walked up behind her. He kneeled down and wrapped his arms around her as she cried. The man then looked up at us, tears in his eyes. His unvoiced question asked. I couldn't help it. I dropped to my knees and started to cry myself. I couldn't bear to answer his question. The three of us stayed there, on the ground, mourning for the man that we all cared for. Their son, and my brother.