Short Stories

FAREWELL TO A SOLDIER

by Jim Newton 
01/26/21
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     I chose not to use names in this story out of respect for the family's privacy. I and a fellow reporter were covering this event which is all-too-common, and holds too little interest for the public; the return of a fallen soldier.  We represent Christian agencies. For now, our editors still believe these events to be newsworthy.

     The family stood in line, one next to the other, hand-in-hand, on the airport tarmac. While nearby, a marine's casket was removed from a parked plane. The family consisted of the fallen soldier's wife occupying the first position followed to the right by the children, youngest to oldest, then the mother and father of the soldier. All stood with heads held high, and their faces with stoic expressions upon them.

     As the casket was collected by the Marine honor guard, a Marine Sergeant approached the fallen soldier's wife. He spoke some quiet words to her, then turned smartly around to stand beside her on the left. He lifted his right arm where she placed her left hand and arm. At this, the family seemed to snap to attention. The family, their bearing and actions, impressed me, greatly.

     Maybe fifty feet behind the family, a small crowd of extended family, friends, curious onlookers, and protesters had gathered. The protesters were heckling and holding handmade signs on which phrases were written such as "baby killer." I saw the distinct possibility of a clash between the family group and the protesters. Amid this sideshow, the ceremony continued.

     The honor guard lifted the casket and walked with it till they came to a stop near the family. The escorting Sergeant motioned to the family then stepped forward in-step with the wife and family. The family huddled together in front of the casket. The wife prayed. Then she and the group stepped back two or three steps. The wife turned her head toward the Sergeant.  The Sergeant gave his assenting nod.

     The wife turned her head to address the honor guard and color guard. She took in a deep breath, then exhaled heavily. "I am not the first wife to lose a husband to the horrors of war. My children are not the first children to lose a father to those same horrors. My mother and father-in-law are not the first mother and father to lose a son to a war fought by this country." She took in another deep breath and exhaled slowly. The wife continued, "We are certain that we shall not be the last to lose someone so precious and loved. Make no mistake, we are not bitter. No, quite the contrary, We are proud of my husband's service to his God and his country. My husband knew the dangers of military service, as did we all. He loved his God, his family, and his country. We prayed time after time as a family for God's holy-protection to bring him home safe. It was not God's will that he should come home to us alive, but we are at peace with God's will. My husband would not have wanted it any other way. He wanted personally to fulfill a part of our Lord's will; even if it meant his paying with his life. My husband, this devoted Marine, believed deeply in serving this amazing country that we are caretakers of for our Lord. As we all do in this family, he believed that this country's military is the most benevolent of any military in any country in the history of mankind. He set out to save first and to resort to violence only if all other means failed. I am certain that all of you men agree with this, and I am certain that all of you men will do your duty for your country, for your God, when the time comes. God bless you all."

     The wife's words never crumbled during her speech, but you could tell she was summoning all the reserve strength she had remaining to keep from disintegrating herself. She displayed a strength of character that amazed all of us in the tiny journalistic-squad present. And the family and God were about to impress us even further.

     Tears appeared streaking down the faces of several members of the honor guard and the color guard. As the Sergeant seemed about to ask the family to turn toward the waiting vehicles, the widow whispered something to him. He nodded his assent.

     Once again, he raised his arm to the wife. She laid her arm on his as she and the family began their walk to what we all assumed was the family limousine. Instead, they veered toward the protesters. The up-until-then noisy crowd became silent.

     I whispered to the reporter, "Either we are going to witness a battle between family and protesters or an event orchestrated by God, himself. I fear the first, and pray for the second."

     The family walked in perfect line-across in step with the Sergeant. They halted as a unit five or six paces from the front line of the protesting group. The wife did not step forward to speak. She kept her youngest child's hand in hers. Her arm remained on top of the Sergeant's. Today, I look back and see that quiet act as a purpose-driven display of unity between family and Marines.

     Once again, the widow took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. At this moment, I noticed the family's faces had softened, including the widow's and the Sergeant's faces. I stood transfixed at this poignant moment wondering what words would come from the mouth of this woman who had proven herself to be so eloquent.

   The wife began to speak, "We do not hate you. Our Lord, Jesus Christ, commands us to 'love one another,' therefore, we love all of you, - deeply. For us, hate is the road to eternal death, and love is the road to eternal life. God bless you all."

         Within the crowd of protesters, two people broke down, weeping. The widow immediately rushed into the crowd gathering the two people and putting her arms around them. At that moment, numerous other people in the protesting-group broke down. Every member of the family, including the Sergeant, rushed in and began hugging and consoling them. Like water rushing uncontrollably from a broken dam, the crowd of extended family, friends, and curious onlookers rushed into the fray. It became a Godly love-fest. What a sight.

     I turned to the other reporter and, in a cracking voice, said, "Are you in?"

     He shot back, "I wouldn't miss this for anything!"