There is no closer friend than the one in your foxhole.
The faith one has in the one watching you back is unlike any other in the world.
Trained side by side from day one.
You know how good of a shot he is and he knows you.

He is a fair-haired young man with lots of quick smiles and jokes.
He made basic training fun.
He is going to get married once his tour is done.
His optimism is infectious.

Sent to a far away land by those that have never had to see death
face to face.
You can only pray that what they have ordered is right.

The order is given.
Forward we go.
Quiet now, the enemy is watching and waiting.
Patton's admonition of "Wars are won by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country"
Echo thru the brain.

I hear the whistle of an incoming shell.
An order is given, "DIG IN!"

Bullets whizzing overhead.
The fear, so strong, one can hold it in their hands.

My buddy and I dig a hole as fast as we can.
Trying to get below where the bullets fly.

Our rifles send hot, screaming lead their way.
The noise becomes distant as the training takes over.

FOCUS!

The way to stay alive is to follow the training.
Listen to the ones that have come before.
They were here and they made it home.

A voice in a foreign language yells something and it grows still.
Our first firefight and we made it.
Yesssssss
We are alive and we are whole.
Thank you God!

I hear screams of pain from ahead of me and to my side.
So, this is war.
This is not too bad; I can handle this all right.

My buddy stands up to give aid to the wounded.
One final crack of a rifle is heard.

I feel the weight of my buddy’s body landing on me.
I laughingly say, "Spooked you, huh?"
All I get in return is a wet gurgle.

In a panic, I turn over to look at my buddy and get him off of me.
Christ!
He caught one in the throat.
The smell of blood is strong and I am getting sick.

Think!
Remember the training.
I grab a pressure bandage and hold it to his throat.
I am covered in the blood of my best friend.
I have his life-force all over me.

"MEDIC!" I scream.
The corpsman does his best but I feel my buddy’s last heartbeat.
Tears are streaming down my face.
The medic runs off to try to save another.
I am left with what used to be my friend.

Rifle fire returns.
The battle continues.
Can't grieve now.
Gotta kill those bastards.

The pain can't be felt right now.
I have to save my own life and get revenge.
For 3 days the battle raged.
Finally, it was over.

Feeling numb,
I go back to say goodbye to my buddy but his body is gone.
In a daze, I carry on.

Many years have passed since that day.
I try to forget the pain.
Most days I act like it never happened.
Nothing bothers me.

Night is the time I fear most.
Sleep is my enemy now.

My dreams return me to those days.
Lord; please don't let me dream again tonight.

Maybe if I have enough beers I will not dream.
I lay down with the feeling of impending doom.
I wake up with the smell of blood in my nose.
The bed is soaked with sweat.

I am not such a great guy.
Why wasn't it me that died?
Why did it have to be him?
He would have made a great contribution to the world.

I feel as though I should have died that day.
I have done nothing special.
My life is nothing to brag about.
I will leave no lasting mark when I am gone.

Slowly I put the gun to my head.
Where will it hurt the least?
Do I or do I not pull the trigger this time?

I hear my lady stirring and getting out of bed.
I quickly put the pistol away and hide it.
But, somehow, she knows.
She stands beside me with her hand on my shoulder and we cry together.

She makes a pot of coffee and gives me a cup.
We sit and talk far into the night.
Her love helps me to wall the pain up once again and bury deep inside.

When the sun comes up, we go to his grave.
I tell her all of the things I feel.
I tell her how much I miss him.
I put my hand on the tombstone and say why not me?

I hear her voice say "He chose you as his friend.
That makes you very special.
He will live as long as you remember him."

I feel a weight leave me.
The sun is shining brighter now.
I can hear the birds singing once again.
The demon has been beaten once again.

This IS why I continue.
This IS why I live.

They shall never be gone as long as I am here.

The pistol has been sold.
The bullets are gone.

While the pain is still there,
I now know how to live with it.

When I tell a joke,
I do it in memory of him.
As long as there is laughter,
He lives.

ã Scuba1988