The crowd was restless, chairs squeaking and grating over the floor in the large room, waiting for the ceremony to start. The Master of Ceremonies stood and took the microphone, but no one was really listening.
When the first speaker stood up, though, everyone fell silent. Out of respect, some of the veterans stood, and most of the younger crowd took their cue from them. He made his way up to the podium slowly, though it wasn't his age that hampered him.
He got to the podium and laid one small card down, then cleared his throat. There was no need of that however, because the crowd was deathly quiet, waiting to hear what he had to say.
"I'm here today to talk about the war." He was blunt and to the point, no useless chatter, he got straight to the point. "Most of you don't remember, but it wasn't what most people say it's like now. There was no great grand plan, no sudden stroke of genius. Just human determination, a will to live, and a want of peace."
"I can still remember their screams. That's what will stay with me the longest. I never saw most of their faces before I killed them, and that's what made it easy. The peace we have now dangles by a thread, and if we can find out why, and about who is doing this, then I have no doubt that peace will endure."
He let out a small sigh, looking over at his fellow speakers. His hair was grey, yet still as unruly as it had been when he'd fought in the war. "It is in the human nature to fight. Yet, if we learn control and patience, then we can have and maintain this peace that our bloody history has paid for time and again."
"I am no pacifist, and my hands are dripping still in the blood of innocents." He paused for a moment to think. The crowd, hanging on his every word, was eating up what he said like it was sent from whatever holy deity they believed in.
"But even a person like me can still enjoy this peace, even if only from the shadows. But now, I'm old. I won't be able to keep the peace any longer, no matter how much I was that. So, I have to leave it in your hands, as unprepared as they are, and hope for the best."
He stepped down from the podium, leaving his card where it was. He walked out of the building, never looking back at any of his comrades in arms. The Master of Ceremonies, her long grey hair having once been a beautiful cornflower blonde, swished slightly as she mounted to the podium. She took one glance at the card, still lying on the stand, and smiled.
Several of the other speakers looked at her with curiosity, but she simply left the card where it was, and announced the next speaker. When he reached the stage, there was the same amount of awe in the audience, however, there was distinctly more fidgeting. He read what was on the card, and had to smile.
Turning, he crumpled up his six page speech and threw it into a wastebasket. And started speaking from his heart. He told them little stories about the war, how he had learned to fight, and had gained pride in himself. His blue eyes flashed with tears by the time he was done, and most of the audience was torn between laughing and crying.
Quickly, the MC took over the mic again, glancing down at the little white card just once, and then introduced the next speaker. The audience settled in for a nice, short speech. When the man, only slightly graying, though he was in his eighties, gained the podium and looked down at the card, he started laughing.
The crowd was curious. What in the world could make such a normally stoic man such as him burst into laughter? He flung his head back, unable to keep the laughter from escaping. Finally, he had to turn over the card before he could regain his composure.
He spoke about his comrades. How he came to meet them, how he came to know them. He talked about the people who had recruited them, and that they were not evil at all. "They knew we could handle the pain. And they were right."
He talked about the friendships, and about the shelter they'd found in different places from so many different people. He talked about the love some of them had found, or the passion they had discovered. The hardships they'd faced integrating into normal society, when they'd lived the most important and influential years of their lives in a war, where everything you do means life or death.
It was more than he'd ever spoken to a public assembly before, and the crowd was alive with murmurs, talking about what they'd learned. The MC once again took the floor, and turned the card over again. She announced the last speaker of the evening, and let him stand to take the floor.
The crowd was now watching him carefully. Even if it happened half a century ago, this man was the one who had sided with the side that lost. The enemy. He made his way up to the podium, looking as though he hadn't aged a day over forty, though he was twice that in age.
He picked up the card and smirked. Slowly, he started talking about the first war. How he'd lived, what he'd had to do to survive. Slowly, he won over the crowd as he spoke about what he had to go through. The pain of being captured and beaten by the enemy. The feeling of impending doom as they went forth into the final great battle.
He spoke with tears in his closed eyes, how he killed in that battle. People, who had families waiting for them, people who did and did not deserve to live. He spoke about his regrets over some of the choices he made. And then he spoke about the conflict that happened a year later.
The crowd was bristling, ready to pounce on any wrong move, but they prepared for nothing. He was open and frank with them, telling them why he sided with the people who wanted to destroy the peace he worked so hard for.
He told them about what he learned, and what he realized. He tried to explain the feeling of a warrior, who is needed no more to fight. The feeling of futility, of uselessness that would normally mean death if they were not in times of peace. He tried to tell them, but the mass of humanity who had never fought a war could never understand. The veterans nodded their heads, knowing all too well what he meant.
He was about to step down from the podium, when he paused and looked at the card again. Smirking, he picked up his coat off his chair and left. The MC mounted the podium, waiting respectfully until he had left before ending the ceremonies. She was about to start on her ending speech, when she looked down at the little white card on her desk.
She smiled, blue eyes of a little girl who has seen too much, lightening a little at the words printed there once again. She dropped her speech to the floor and left it there, before smiling slightly at the people who had come to commemorate the Eve wars.
"Thank you all. I leave you now with the secret to living your life the best way that you can." She lifted the card, the simple white card into the air and held it proudly.
--Odin Lowe
LMK: Happy June 6th. Happy D-Day.