Response Inspired by Price of Victory (Fallen Soldier) 1944 by Christian Petersen
For Lewis Randolph, member of the Army 4th Infantry Division (1943-45)
I
You were not one of the bodies
Brought home in a box.
Left too early in the ground,
Silent, alone, hopes and dreams
Left unfulfilled.
Maybe you looked like him.
Falling, leaning, tumbling down.
Maybe at that moment you pictured
Russet-brown curls, cherry lips,
A blushing face, turned down focusing
On that letter in your pocket.
Maybe your feet, tired and weary--
From walking, fighting, wanted to stop.
To go no further, to give no more.
Maybe you wished to just die there,
To not drag your body, what
Must have felt like miles for help,
To pass the others; fallen,
Who have no more breath.
II
Still, you returned to your Lorraine,
With a medal to show your grandkids.
You grew old, white, with your hands Wrinkled with stories left to tell.
But, around a kitchen table visiting,
Helping because she’s gone.
We finally heard the purple medal story
Hung upon your heart.
Your assignment-a routine movement.
In charge of a group of men.
Set upon by the enemy and their
“Screaming Mimi’s”, shrilling like
An angry mob of women.
The pain in your legs, torso, backside,
As the tiny pieces of shrapnel dug in,
Your men, some injured,
Some later shrouded in red, white, blue,
All looking to you for guidance,
For you to find help,
To get them home,
End the pain.
We sat in silence all around the table
Late into the night,
That story and so many more.
I saw a great man in you,
Remembering who taught me to dance
At weddings,
With your laugh I looked for and
Always hugs that smelled of tobacco.
I learned that night,
You are not a silent soldier,
A fallen soldier.
You were not brought home in a box.
