War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

to lose a comrade

the notice was pinned. to the electronic door. he, our beloved Harry. the one who always made us laugh. the one who always set the pace. calmly. solidly. the one whose mastery lifted us all to the next level. is gone. dead. just like that. no warning.

I know someone who served outside outside the wire. early one morning after a night patrol he lay in bed. tried to sleep. was in that hazy half state that is army. metal doors opening shutting. murmurs. footsteps on gravel. the slam of the tan rockets (the cans). guys cleaning their weapons.

he rolled over, put a pillow over his head. heard the loud boom. “what the fuck is that?” but he knew what it was. jumped out of bed threw on his pants, his boots, ran for it.

the hours, the days, sifted. the information drew in. it was the one who always made everyone laugh. the never-bitter one. the one who was good to the core. the farmer’s son. the one they turned to when everything looked grim.

just as our Harry.

and early hours, these early days, we flail. cannot imagine future without the laughing one. the easy one. our hearts so damned laiden with dread.

but the thing is, we soldier on don’t we? we always do. we have the discipline, the muscle memory. the will. and we do it not only for ourselves, but we do it for them.
all of them.


About This Page

The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled to lose a comrade. It was posted here on September 19, 2010.

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