DEDICATED TO THE SOLDIERS BURIED AT JEFFERSON BARRACKS NATIONAL CEMETARY, St. Louis, Missouri
On all sides you can see the tombstones, lined perfectly in rows. There is a light mist rolling off the river, over the ground, weaving between each grave like a mourner trying to comfort the soldiers.
Down the road to my right is a chapel. The sun is starting to peak over the top, illuminating the cross, just as it did 120 years ago.
Slowly from behind the hill, you can hear the beat of the horse hooves on the road. The carriages are filled with relatives and friends, all dressed in black. The soldiers, dressed in their Civil War uniforms, march slowly behind the casket. When all arrive at the chapel, the soldiers stand at attention, setting their rifles to give their buddy a final farewell with a twenty-one gun salute.
Now all that is left of that funeral is a worn down tombstone, the name unable to be read, but still commemorating a life of service given for this country.
The day he died was not an ordinary day. The air was thick with smoke from the firing of muskets. The sun was trying to peak through, but the grey soot was overpowering.
On both sides, the soldiers face each other, looking down the barrel of the enemy's weapon.
This particular soldier stood on the far left of his firing line, which was still a few rows back from the front. Many thoughts crept into his mind, weaving through without his concious knowledge. How would he handle killing someone? How would he handle dying? Little did he know that he would soon find out.
The first line fires and moves. The thoughts in his mind swirl faster. A few men fall from the force of the bullets entering their bodies. The second line kneels down, aims and shoots. The enemies fall, and retreat a little way.
The soldier's line moves to the front. He aims his weapon - steady, surely.
"FIRE!"
Silence. The enemy had been able to shoot faster, and the bullets traveled through the air, stopping only when hitting the soldier. The world stopped as he fell to the ground. He could feel the writhing agony travel throughout his body. Trembling, he shut his eyes, knowing he would never wake again.
c1988 cmtiv
