Horrors of war

He sat alone in an over crowded veterans home. Tucked away in a corner watching, listening and thinking about his men. How they let him lead them into battle with no questions asked. He was a young lieutenant far from home with a  young wife and baby son who he had never seen. He carried their picture tucked into the headband of his helmet and would kiss it for luck on to many occasions.

He saw the horrors of war and brought it home with him as he tried to live a life and forget. But forgetting wasn’t in the cards for him like many others. He stayed in touch with some of his old squad those who had made it back, but they weren't the same as was he. Night sweats and terrible dreams forced him to sleep on the couch most nights, his wife doing her best to understand and give him space.

He drank a lot after the war, it helped him forget some things but it also made its way to his house, where it eventually destroyed his marriage . He raised a fist to his son one drunken night and another to his wife. They moved away and the bottle took their place sending him deeper and deeper into the darkness that filled his every breathing moment.

He got old and his body and mind strayed away, leaving him another old drunk who served his country but for reasons not well known back then, he couldn’t cope with life out of uniform. He tried to make sense out of everything but his mind wouldn’t quiet down and the sounds of his men crying as they lay wounded begging for his help rang in his ears for decades to many to mention.

Now he sits in a corner trying to remember what his wife looked like and if his son had grown up to be a fine young man? But those thoughts passed by quickly replaced with that never-ending darkness that these new meds are supposed to help with. He doesn’t take them if no ones watching because he doesn’t want to forget things that were the most memorable times of his entire life. Why would he want to forget Johnny Berger who was just eighteen years old when he lost his legs or Billy Sherman who died in his arms as the blood poured out of his neck. He can never forget looking into that young boy's eyes, promising him he would be ok.

There is no bigger nightmare than war. It is hell and monsters and all the terrible things a person could fear. It eats away at your mind leaving you with constant shades of darkness and shatters any dreams you made for yourself. But that’s just for some. Others somehow are able to leave the battles on the battlefield living lives, happy lives with restful nights and only occasional nightmares. Some of these men volunteer at the veterans' home, trying to help in any way they can to ease the pain of the shattered lives of their brothers in arms. They are all heroes in my eyes, these eyes that cry for those old men who sit in the corner craving one more drink waiting to join their squads one last time.

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