When War Came: They Took Our Boys

Erget was a woman with a kind heart. She lived alone in a top floor apartment with her cat— Midge. When friends would visit they remarked— to themselves, or even out-loud: that Erget was exceptionally well organized. Everything in her home had a place— and was returned to its place after each use.

Erget was a woman of order and she followed that with all the piety of a bishop given to the cloth. Her friends were kind and would gather at her apartment every Tuesday and Friday evening to knit socks for the soldiers in the war.

At first they would ignore the war out of respect for Erget’s husband, who was a colonel. But the letters home had dried up two years prior and even Erget could no longer hold back curiosity when gossip of the war reached her well kept home.

“Did you hear of the Johnson’s boy?”

“Oh, my! What a sad story, heard he tried to conscientiously object: they wouldn’t have it, ‘a good Christian boy goes to fight for his Lord’ the Bishop preached that Sunday. They dragged him from his mothers arms Monday. And he was only eighteen years of age.”

“I heard the postman speaking of the war coming to an end. Told him, I did— do not laugh Martha— well I told him, ‘this war will go on as long as it makes the men and woman in suits rich, we sacrifice our children, husbands— respect Erget— and livelihoods to make them rich.’ ”

“And what did the post-man say?” Erget asked.

“He banned me from the building and warned me he should be reporting me. I took my package and left, he won’t get my business….” she paused, breathing out heavily, “but he is the only post-man in this town: Erget could you take my package for me?”

Erget cheerfully acquiesced, she was agreeable like that. All her friends leaned on her for tasks— she never turned them down.

The following day, when Erget took the package to the postman, she he met Ronald T. Sherman. He was retired from the army, four tours of duty: a decorated captain.

Ronald T. Sherman— Ronnie for short, was a man of impressive stature that held himself with dignity. After fifteen years fighting in the war he was now an outspoken pacifist with no qualms about collecting from Government assistance— which was funded by the minerals and raw materials won in the war. His gentle spirit and distaste for violence, is what drew Erget near to him: he gave her peaceful and calm soul; a safe harbor to rest.

He asked her out immediately, and being as she’d not been on a date for years she accepted— albeit with a bit of apprehension.

They met at Alfred Park in the late afternoon for a walk, the loop was only half a mile; they walked for the equivalent of seven miles talking and learning about each other. Romantics of the age would say, “they were falling in love.”

Fall in love is what they did, and on the seventh month of their meeting: they were wed in front of a small gathering by the Bishop. They celebrated with close friends: a reception meticulously planned, and executed; with food, and drink, and dancing a plenty.

Erget was happy, even though her evenings with friends had been reduced to once a month on Saturday’s. A sacrifice she made for the nourishment of her marriage. But she was happy, and she did not think— not often of her Colonel who had ceased to exist in her life like light at the end of the day: vanished without a thought. Happiness can have that affect on anyone.

The war drew to an end in the seventh year of her marriage; a ceasefire declaring neither side the victor— implying that both sides lost. Soldiers returned home en masse: homelessness rose, crime rose, and the news was filled with hate towards veterans who had been shipped across The Great Sea to fight for freedoms no one felt were in jeopardy.

Whenever Erget saw a soldier begging for money she gave them what little she could. By no means was she poor: her husband took in a sizable income at the bank, and had investments in the stock market. She lived comfortably, but even she felt the squeeze of the wars end.

During one of her afternoon strolls, Erget came across a soldier lying in the street. As she passed him, he reached out and grabbed her ankle. It startled her, until she realized the grip was a gentle grip. She looked down on the man: scars lined his face, and his eyes were hallow. He was a shell of his former self; and if, by judging his state now, in the past he was an impressive man.

“Sorry, ma’am,” the soldier said, “I’ve seen your picture before, across,” he waved vaguely towards the ports, “you are beautiful, you kept our unit alive during the Siege of Bon-Hare. Not in a bad way,” he realized how that sounded, “your beauty gave us hope, something to fight for. We’d all but lost hope, then the Colonel took out our your photo and we knew that whatever they shipped us out her to fight for— we’d all forgotten what it was, would not— could not be our rally cry. It had to be for the woman and children left behind: so that we could return to our loved ones and care for them. You gave us something worth being free for.” Tears started to stream down the soldiers face, “tell me, did the Colonel return?”

This was the first time in years Erget had thought of her husband. Hearing that he had been an honorable man who others looked up to, brought tears to her eyes, “The Colonel is dead, but he kept you alive and brought you home.”

The solider looked down at the pavement, he seemed to want to say more, but could not find words.

Erget knelt down, pressing a crisp bill in his hand, she kissed him on the forehead.

She spoke, softly: like a mother comforting her child, “You are free now.”

THE END