Veterans
Grandpa shows up to take me to Sunday church. I want to ask about his near fight with Gerald, but I’m afraid to rile him. Sundays are our only days together. After our noon meal, he lights out again. This week’s visit was shorter than ever.
“The Reunion starts today,” Mr. Redmond reminds us.
Chance’s family and I walk to the train station. It’s been busy every day, but today is unbelievable! Train after train. Hundreds of veterans pour from the cars. Wrinkled faces with bodies that need to be helped down the train steps. One veteran is lifted to a wheelchair because his right leg is missing. Another’s empty jacket sleeve is pinned to his shoulder.
And suddenly I feel it—the head-bowing moment I’d expected. The history isn’t Gettysburg. It isn’t monuments and bronze statues. It’s those faces, those weathered eyes that saw what happened here, those feeble hands that fought. It’s memories shared by old men who lived the history fifty years ago.
The Camp truly will see a Reunion today. All these men who fought side by side and bullet against bullet will be together again. The Great Tent will swell from their presence.
Chance speaks to me, but I scarcely hear him. This time it isn’t on account of the noise. My eyes are riveted on the veterans, men who fought the same war Grandpa fought, men who made our country whole again.
I finally saw what I came here to see and felt what I came here to feel. I wish you were here. This is about you. And Grandpa. And all the other soldiers who are part of this town’s history. My heart is full and spilling over.
Virginia Lee Kent
