THE WITNESS
I watched as they embraced,
The old man and the boy
And felt uneasy spying
As they said their last goodbye.
The boy was tall and straight
Strong, tan, hard and lean
In the uniform of his country
A United States Marine.
The old man was slightly graying
Heavy with his age
Arms wrapped around his son
Fingers gripping with all their might.
I knew their family well
Three fine boys this man had raised
And now his youngest one
Was going off to war.
He told me he would be strong
How he would put forth a brave front
And never let his son know
The fear that was in his heart.
For this man who was now gently rocking
His grown child in his arms
Had once gone where his son now goes
So many years ago.
He had told me of this time
When he had marched away
How he once was the one to leave
And of his Father's long embrace.
He spoke softly about his heartache
Of when they had to part
And leaving his Father to wait
Wondering if that was to be their last goodbye?
I looked away embarrassed
By my intrusion in this moment
And saw the scene repeated
Around the crowded grounds
I thought of all these fine young men
Stepping forward while most stayed behind
How they do not serve for glory, fame or riches
Nor career or political gain
So why then do they go?
What call to duty do they answer?
Generation after generation
These warriors of the same blood
Fathers do not raise their sons to be soldiers
Nor to die for their country
Yet father and son continue to serve
Praying that this time will be the last.
The naive will surely tell you
Simply if these boys would just not come
Than there could be no war
Oh if that were only so.
But these brave men rightly know
That as long as there are others
Who would take away our freedoms
Or attack us for their cause
Then this call must always be answered
If only by these few
To guarantee the futures of many
And protect our countries shores.
I wondered at these goodbyes
Of how many would not return
How this might be their last shared embrace,
The last touch, the last smile?
Sadly I realized that this sacred ceremony
Has been performed too many times
That even this young man's grandfather
Had once stood in this boy's place.
The son must leave
While the father must stay behind.
And through the years the roles just change
As the son becomes the father.
They parted now as I looked back upon them
The old man squeezed the boy's hand
Reluctantly letting go
Their heads dipping slightly at the same time
The boy took a step away, knowing it was time to leave
He reached for his bag, then straightened
"I love you Dad, tell Mom..." the words catching in his throat
"I know, I'll tell her, I love you too Son."
Seconds passed as they looked silently at each other
Both with tight smiles faked upon their lips
Eyes showing the sorrow, uncertainty, a tear
The distance starting to grow.
A few feet apart the boy paused, looked back
The old man's eyes again meeting his
"God Bless"
They said as one.
As the boy disappeared into the crowd
I wondered if the old man now knew
Was it harder to march off leaving loved ones
Or watch a loved one marching off?
The boy out of sight, again I looked at the father
Head bowed, shoulders shaking
His tears flowing freely now
Clumsily, I placed my hand softly upon his back.
He wept not just for their parting
For he wept at what the boy did not know
Of the pain and the heartache to come
When the battle's horrors becomes all too real.
For once the violence has started
The boy can never be the same
And even if he made it home
His life will forever be changed.
He wept for he knows of the years
Of the nightmares which will follow
The anger, confusion and fear
The guilt and the never-ending sorrow.
God bless those lost in distant lands
Never to be seen again
But bless those too who do return
For their lives they have also given.
He straightened himself
Gave me a quick look
Forced a sad, crooked smile
"He'll be all right," he said.
Then passing through this somber crowd
I asked myself the question,
A question as old as man
Will this cruel cycle of war, ever come to an end?