The apparition appeared on the hillside out of the mist of the predawn morning. His snow white hair gleamed as bright as the sword hanging from the saddle of his steed. He removed his tri-fold hat and sat with his hands crossed over the saddle horn. He sat there on the hilltop and gazed over the rolling fields below him. As he closed his eyes, he began to hear the cries of his troops freezing in the cold of Valley Forge. The cries then mixed with the sounds of explosions and machine gun fire. The din of Biplanes roaring over the troops battling trench to trench caused the General’s eyes to clench shut and his grip on the saddle horn to increase. The sound of the Japanese Torpedo Bombers was deafening as they released hell on Pearl Harbor. They General then looked upward as if to heaven as the shivers of the troops in the winter of Korea racked his body. The wetness of the jungles of Vietnam where the enemy was seemingly behind each tree caused the General’s steed to shift nervously on it’s haunches. Cries of the men dying in a battle not known to the public in a land where we officially didn’t go forced the General’s hands to his ears as he began to tremble. The roar of an F-15 shook the hillside as the smoke and sandstorms of Iraq and Afghanistan swirled about the General. The General cried out as he opened his eyes. Beneath him, in the predawn light, the fields of Arlington with their simple white crosses began to appear. The General bowed his head and prayed as the breeze snapped the Star and Stripes to life on the pole behind him. He then sat bolt straight upright upon his steed and saluted the fallen below him. He turned and rode back into the misty fog of the Potomac as the city awoke……
T. Scott Sanders
941pm
5/30/2010
I got 'chill bumps' - hits the nail on the head. Thanks.
ReplyDelete"THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY"
ReplyDeleteThrough the travail of the ages,
Midst the pomp and toil of war,
Have I fought and strove and perished
Countless times upon this star.
In the form of many people
In all panoplies of time
Have I seen the luring vision
Of the Victory Maid, sublime.
I have battled for fresh mammoth,
I have warred for pastures new,
I have listed to the whispers
When the race trek instinct grew.
I have known the call to battle
In each changeless changing shape
From the high souled voice of conscience
To the beastly lust for rape.
I have sinned and I have suffered,
Played the hero and the knave;
Fought for belly, shame, or country,
And for each have found a grave.
I cannot name my battles
For the visions are not clear,
Yet, I see the twisted faces
And I feel the rending spear.
Perhaps I stabbed our Savior
In His sacred helpless side.
Yet, I've called His name in blessing
When after times I died.
In the dimness of the shadows
Where we hairy heathens warred,
I can taste in thought the lifeblood;
We used teeth before the sword.
While in later clearer vision
I can sense the coppery sweat,
Feel the pikes grow wet and slippery
When our Phalanx, Cyrus met.
Hear the rattle of the harness
Where the Persian darts bounced clear,
See their chariots wheel in panic
From the Hoplite's leveled spear.
See the goal grow monthly longer,
Reaching for the walls of Tyre.
Hear the crash of tons of granite,
Smell the quenchless eastern fire.
Still more clearly as a Roman,
Can I see the Legion close,
As our third rank moved in forward
And the short sword found our foes.
Once again I feel the anguish
Of that blistering treeless plain
When the Parthian showered death bolts,
And our discipline was in vain.
I remember all the suffering
Of those arrows in my neck.
Yet, I stabbed a grinning savage
As I died upon my back.
Once again I smell the heat sparks
When my flemish plate gave way
And the lance ripped through my entrails
As on Crecy's field I lay.
In the windless, blinding stillness
Of the glittering tropic sea
I can see the bubbles rising
Where we set the captives free.
Midst the spume of half a tempest
I have heard the bulwarks go
When the crashing, point blank round shot
Sent destruction to our foe.
I have fought with gun and cutlass
On the red and slippery deck
With all Hell aflame within me
And a rope around my neck.
And still later as a General
Have I galloped with Murat
When we laughed at death and numbers
Trusting in the Emperor's Star.
Till at last our star faded,
And we shouted to our doom
Where the sunken road of Ohein
Closed us in it's quivering gloom.
So but now with Tanks a'clatter
Have I waddled on the foe
Belching death at twenty paces,
By the star shell's ghastly glow.
So as through a glass, and darkly
The age long strife I see
Where I fought in many guises,
Many names, -- but always me.
And I see not in my blindness
What the objects were I wrought,
But as God rules o'er our bickerings
It was through His will I fought.
So forever in the future,
Shall I battle as of yore,
Dying to be born a fighter,
But to die again, once more.
- General George S. Patton
(http://www.pattonhq.com/unknown/chap14.html)