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Memorial Dinner |
| Written by wesley d. marner | |
| Tuesday, 27 May 2008 | |
Our Memorial 'Dinner'.... ..:
As I sat at the back porch table today I wanted to jump and run for the black doctor's bag tucked in the closet. Then remembering the invites I'd left I knew the bandages and tamponade packs were un-needed. Sgt. Riley and his compardres had arrived in time. He wore his old WWII helmet with the bullet hole in the side. Another old haggard friend, war weary but looking much too old for his features spoke with a youngster's voice how he longed to hold not only his buddy, but his Mom back home. I believed he said he was from near Grundy in the eastern foothills of the Appalachians and had only come further south due to the Union Soldiers marching this way. He tipped his hat and appreciated the invitation. We enjoyed his and his funny drawl, as he hitched his horse at the back porch. It seemed a steady stream of visitors this day. Each and all were perfect gentlemen showing respect for the invite given. Some I found were timid and I thought this due the older crowd of war torn soldiers until I realized it was their wounds they were hiding. One young lad even shakingly spoke, "there'd been a lot less blood if I had pulled him faster, but mister, I only had one leg!" "I tried, but they kept coming." I pulled my hanky and attempted to catch the tear as it spilled down his face. As I moved to another table to serve, I noted these men not somber as I'd expected. To a tee they all respected the buddies they recognized and some soldiers from days gone by. The Calvary showed as did the Musketeers and the Mountaineers. It was funny watching them chat over tea, and with a few drippings on their beards being wiped away as they all in unison talked of another day. How moved I was as I sat today when the 'Nam boys walked in to stay. A few of the tunnel rats joked of the porch and the fine weather without the soaking rains of the monsoon. The Huey pilots, down on the end were explaining the 'pitch' to an old General Hemm how combustion put them there; and I know he didn't have a clue. The smile on his face showed his grace just as the memory of a mom's lad he'd held, made him winch as he stood to take that shell. There were few that didn't have blood showing except the ones with a cough and breath waning from the chemicals they'd breathed...they stumbled onto the porch, their invites received. I even had a couple of guys that made it from the 43rd parallel that used to work the MASH unit on hill 9....they joked about the Bell's with the gurneys attached and how they wished they'd carried more then two. About that time someone I thought I recognized came ambling up with his 'night vision' goggles flipped back on his head. He turned to speak to the flotilla group on the ol' Ironside and listen to their story of one of the first torpedoes ever used. Soon the crew of the 'USS Arizona' chimed in, boy were they a hoot! Old comrades at sea, showed in animation how they 'aimed' at the Zeros showering their deck. The amazed looks upon the flotilla guys that once navigated the Mississippi I'd never expected. As the one I thought I recognized took off his helmet, the goggles flipped carelessly loose as the bullet had taken out a hinge. He however tucked it under his arm, politely said thanks for our Southern hospitality and how he was afraid he wouldn't make it all the way from 'Desert Storm'. I appreciated him coming and knew why I thought I knew 'em. It was his voice that had that charm and couldn't have lived far from the farm. Another few came today from a land so far away. They talked of hills and sand and children at play. They spoke of hunger and strife and dictators at bay. They hesitantly let a history be known of some soldiers at work still yet far from home. Then as the old westerner and the NY guys, butted heads in the corner and banged on the rail...I thought to myself I hope it don't break and thankfully I put in that extra nail. They clanked on the cookpot and hollered, "a' tention!" All the guys their feelings at ease, chimed in and sang...'oh what a gentle breeze!'....a few set down their beers and teas, strummed on the guitar and clamored with ease...a song about 'take me home to West Virginia' while some others dubbed in a state of their own. All in all we had a good time and when the food was eaten and stories were shared we hugged each other and they said their farewells. They said they'd been blessed with the honor and hoped to bring it all back home, they had to go however as their buddies still linger, at home and afar on those distance shores. The most I felt other then love abound was how they all stood with a common ground. They wanted me to know how badly they wanted to show they loved me and to honorably keep me safe for another day to do this again. I tried to get them to stay as there was so much more I wanted to say. They bid me ado and went their way and said they'd always be thinkin' this way.......ol' doc wes Copyright 2008 wesley d. marner |
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