el_criticon (el_criticon) wrote in olympianthreads, @ 2014-11-12 08:06:00 |
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Diego wasn't sure why he took it upon himself to ensure that Remembrance Day was honoured on the island every year. It wasn't as though he had ever fought in an actual war. But he had been a soldier, if you could classify it that way, and had taken a bullet for his service; he understood sacrifice and loyalty. His parents had met in the Spanish Civil War, thrown together by the unrest in their respective countries, and he had been born shortly after World War II, when wounds were still fresh and distrust was still rife between nations. He wondered, as he began the service, whether his mother and brothers were attending a similar service.
"They shall grow not old,
as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them,
nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun
and in the morning
We will remember them."
"We will remember them," chorused the small crowd gathered in front of the pier. Diego checked his watch, and flipped a button on the portable music player he had brought with him, since as usual he'd been unable to find a bugler. The haunting tones of The Last Post sounded, followed by a minute's silence. Diego kept the precise time. Another press of the button began The Reveille. At its close, Diego reopened his order of service and continued.
"They were young, as we are young,
They served, giving freely of themselves.
To them, we pledge, amid the winds of time,
To carry their torch and never forget.
We will remember them."
"We will remember them," was the answer.
Diego nodded. "Thank you for coming, everyone," he said. As the crowd dispersed to mingle amongst themselves, he turned slightly to look over the sea. He might not have fought in war, but on this day he thought about old friends and comrades, killed or simply lost in the line or duty. He thought about the many children on this island - and they were all children to him - who in the fullness of time would become soldiers in all but name, of those who might never return. Of his own children. Cat, all fire and determination, so skilled but no sense to speak of. Max, so much potential, but whether he had the focus to match, he still didn't know. And all the others. How many of them would become unmarked gravestones? How many would simply disappear? Only time would tell.