Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 9

The General has said himself, in the past, that a wounded man is a burden on the battlefield. I'll see that he gets the care he needs." He glanced at the bitter battlefield, took a deep breath, and then turned to give instructions for departure to the stretcher-bearers.
    Feeling something warm at my side, I looked down to see the General's messenger-lad kneeling next to me. "Shall I stay with you, sir?"
    "I'm leaving the safety of this rock in a minute," I warned him.
    "Yes, sir, I know. But you don't have a messenger here, and your soldier-servant is dead." He looked up at me earnestly. His face was green with fear.
    I had the sudden feeling of being surrounded by men and lads who all possessed more courage than I did. Well, the least I could do was to ensure that no more of them died than needed to. I straightened the lad's helmet, saying, "No, the General may have need of you. Don't worry; I'm capable of carrying my own messages." I gave him a smile and pushed him in the direction of the General.
    The soldier-servant beckoned him over, and then positioned him so that the lad would be mainly shielded by the soldier-servant's own body from the murderous crossfire from the north and east. The soldier-servant awaited my nod; then he gave a sharp order to the stretcher-bearers, and all of them began their journey past the gates of afterdeath.
    The Fates were evidently watching over them that day; they made it safely to the edge of the summit and disappeared over the crest. The other stretcher-bearers remained at the crest, but none ventured onto the field. I didn't blame them. I wished I could stay behind the General's rock.
    But Fairview needed me.
    Looking back on it, I can see how odd it was that I didn't think, My men need me. But that was how it had always been: my thoughts centered on Fairview's welfare. Oh, I knew, in a distant sort of way, that being an officer conferred certain duties upon me. I did my best to fulfill those duties, and I must have been successful to a certain extent, for my men liked me. But my thoughts were never really on them, except in a tangential way. That was part of the reason I found Doyle so irritating: he occupied much more of my time than I wished to devote to any of my men.
    And Fairview's perspective on this matter? I never knew. It was something we never talked about. Indeed, I didn't really understand what sort of soldier he was, until that day on Spy Hill.
    But I am getting ahead of myself. There I was, standing behind the General's rock, where I didn't belong. And there was Fairview, out in the main trench . . . where he didn't belong. Somehow, I had to reach him.
    Try to understand, if you can, what lay between us. Not simply bullets, shrapnel, shells – all the ways in which modern man has learned to tear apart a living body. What lay between us was bodies. Bodies of men I had known and fought alongside, not only in the army, but in some cases in the navy as well. Bodies ripped apart and shredded across the field. To reach Fairview, I would have to pass the mangled remains of Canton. It is one thing to see momentarily the sundered body of a young man who has tended you day and night for months. It is quite another thing to deliberately crawl past his corpse, thinking all the time of how he died as a result of an errand you sent him upon.
    These are the times that test men's faith. Did I, or did I not, believe that men pass through death into a better life? Well, I did and I didn't. And as it happened, I was closer to the truth than I knew.
    At any rate, I journeyed safely to Fairview. He was no longer surrounded by officers; his officers, and mine, and Major Arundel's, were all busy trying to keep the ragged remnants of our brigade from disintegrating. As of yet, we had made no push against the Mippites, but I knew that would come soon.
    I dropped into the trench just as young Davey, white-faced, hurtled out of the trench and struggled his way toward the signalmen, who had set up their heliograph in the pre-dawn hours and were now tending the flame, wiping down the mirror that reflected the flame, checking the colored transparencies that would be used to send the color-coded messages. They were intent on their duties, paying no attention to the bullets whistling past them. Once more, I was filled with the awareness of being surrounded by soldiers who were greater than myself.
    "I was beginning to worry that you weren't coming," said Fairview, keeping his voice light.
    "I