Valiant
01
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The guns rang out, loud enough to make the families gathered around wince every time a shot went off. The parents of Sergeant Jason Harris stood at the front of the congregation, clad in black clothes. His mother, Eleanor Harris had tears rolling down her face, her shoulders shaking with the sobs that were racking through her body. His father however, shed no tears as he pat his wife’s back in a comforting gesture. Although he shed no tears his emotions were clear in his face, the way he gritted his teeth together, his jaw tense, his eyes hard and full of so many emotions that it was hard to get a grip on one of them.
Members of their family, friends and fellow soldiers gathered around, solemn expressions on their features as they watched the coffin get lowered into the ground. The priest’s gentle words rang through the graveyard, “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
With shaking hands Eleanor stepped out of her husband’s embrace, her legs felt weak under her as she walked forward and bent to scoop up some dirt and scatter it on her son’s coffin. The only thoughts in her head were how this wasn’t right, this wasn’t natural. For parent to bury their child, a parent was never meant to outlive their children. But here she was grieving her loss and saying goodbye to her son.
She watched with tearful eyes as she thought about when Jason left to go defend his country, she hadn’t said goodbye, so sure that he would return. What had happened to humanity that they seemed to take some kind of joy in this merciless killing?
An older looking man in military dress approached Jason’s parents as the congregation left the graveside, their heads all angled towards the floor, drawing their coats closer against the unusual breeze that swept through the summers day. It was as if the heavens were as sad about this as the grief ridden people below them. Perhaps they also felt the misery of the situation.
The man held the country’s flag that had been resting upon their son’s coffin ever since it arrived back in the country. Now it was folded into a neat square, clutched tightly between the man’s wrinkled hands. He presented them with the flag; Philip – Jason’s father – reached out rigidly and took it.
“We’re proud of your son,” he told them, his shoulders stiff and his back straight. “He fought well for his country.” A few more words were exchanged but they fell on deaf ears, the couple were too full of anguish to listen to how valiant their son was. The older man turned to face the space where the coffin was now having dirt shovelled on top of it, forever burying the young man beneath it. Swiftly, he raised his hand up, thumb flush against the pointer finger which was barely grazing his hat, a salute to the man that had fought bravely and lost his life in order to protect the ones he loved.
The guns rang out, loud enough to make the families gathered around wince every time a shot went off. The parents of Sergeant Jason Harris stood at the front of the congregation, clad in black clothes. His mother, Eleanor Harris had tears rolling down her face, her shoulders shaking with the sobs that were racking through her body. His father however, shed no tears as he pat his wife’s back in a comforting gesture. Although he shed no tears his emotions were clear in his face, the way he gritted his teeth together, his jaw tense, his eyes hard and full of so many emotions that it was hard to get a grip on one of them.
Members of their family, friends and fellow soldiers gathered around, solemn expressions on their features as they watched the coffin get lowered into the ground. The priest’s gentle words rang through the graveyard, “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
With shaking hands Eleanor stepped out of her husband’s embrace, her legs felt weak under her as she walked forward and bent to scoop up some dirt and scatter it on her son’s coffin. The only thoughts in her head were how this wasn’t right, this wasn’t natural. For parent to bury their child, a parent was never meant to outlive their children. But here she was grieving her loss and saying goodbye to her son.
She watched with tearful eyes as she thought about when Jason left to go defend his country, she hadn’t said goodbye, so sure that he would return. What had happened to humanity that they seemed to take some kind of joy in this merciless killing?
An older looking man in military dress approached Jason’s parents as the congregation left the graveside, their heads all angled towards the floor, drawing their coats closer against the unusual breeze that swept through the summers day. It was as if the heavens were as sad about this as the grief ridden people below them. Perhaps they also felt the misery of the situation.
The man held the country’s flag that had been resting upon their son’s coffin ever since it arrived back in the country. Now it was folded into a neat square, clutched tightly between the man’s wrinkled hands. He presented them with the flag; Philip – Jason’s father – reached out rigidly and took it.
“We’re proud of your son,” he told them, his shoulders stiff and his back straight. “He fought well for his country.” A few more words were exchanged but they fell on deaf ears, the couple were too full of anguish to listen to how valiant their son was. The older man turned to face the space where the coffin was now having dirt shovelled on top of it, forever burying the young man beneath it. Swiftly, he raised his hand up, thumb flush against the pointer finger which was barely grazing his hat, a salute to the man that had fought bravely and lost his life in order to protect the ones he loved.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is not my best work.I had a little trouble writing this as it hit a little too close to home, a friend of my family's died a year ago and it brought up the memories of the funeral.