© 2003 Gary L. Benton

The morning was cold, wet, and it was developing into a windy day as well. The wind was stronger now than it had been four hours ago when I had awaken. The light rain was driven by the wind, so it appeared to be much wetter than it really was. I was chilled to the bone. Each time I looked at the mound of dirt and saw the casket, I would shiver.

I shivered, not so much from the weather, but from the realization that it could have been me that was being buried this morning, and not my friend. See, Alan had gone to school with me and had everything to live for. He was good looking, dated a beautiful girl, intelligent, and was a kind young man.

Once again I quivered involuntarily. I wondered how many more families would feel the terrible heart squeezing pain of losing a loved one in a war no one wanted. I looked over at Alan's family and I felt their pain. Our hearts seem to instantly blend into one. Our one heart was filled with anguish, fear, and helplessness almost to the breaking point. "How may more times would this happen before this war was over?" I asked myself in a low voice.

Alan was not supposed to die, because he was one of the good guys. He was, in many ways, my hero. Instead of living and becoming the kind of great man he would have been, he died in a war, serving in far away place he did not understand. Of course, Alan would never have thought like I was at that moment. Serving our nation was the American way. And, Alan was as American as our Heroes.

Heroes were our custom, John Wayne, Roy Rogers, Superman, and others, always won, while the bad guys lost. All Alan got for serving our country and for doing what he thought was right, was a gunshot to the head and a closed casket. Why had God forsaken my friend? I tried to imagine what terrible things an eighteen year old kid could have done to bring the wrath of God down on him. My anger grew and grew, until I could feel it eating at my insides.

"What kind of God would allow this to happen? This is the kind and all knowing God of the Bible?" While I was muttering to myself, my anger was almost beyond control.

I was still battling with my anger and frustration, when I heard the faint moaning of the bugler as he played Taps. Suddenly, I was jolted into a deeper sense of awareness as the honor guard fired their weapons into the air as a salute to a fallen comrade. Realizing I was in uniform I came to attention and
saluted. I watched as the honor guard smartly folded the flag that had been draped over Alan's coffin.

The senior officer of the honor guard walked smartly toward Alan's family with the folded flag in his hands. My heart cried out in pain. Tears, no it must have been the rain, ran down my cheeks. I trembled as I watched, but could not hear, the officer speak to Alan's mother. The look on her face will be with me forever.

As the last shot echoed through the Missouri Ozark Mountains, I turned and walked toward my car. I opened the car door, twisted and lookedat Alan's grave. I wiped the tear from my cheeks and said, "Rest now Alan.You are home, back where you belong. I am going to miss you my friend."