Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own the characters, but I do love them, and the more I write them, the more I want to write them. Please don't sue me, as you'll be very disappointed in the minimal financial gains. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy my little exercise…
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St. Louis, Missouri
0900 hours
A light rain fell on the mourners as they moved towards the burial site. As the gathering settled into the seats under the large shelter, the honor guard of General Hawk, Beach Head, Stalker, Falcon, Snake Eyes, and Flint carried the flag-draped coffin from the hearse to the waiting burial site. Setting the casket gently upon the platform, four of the six soldiers turned and selected a seat. Flint and Beach Head remained at attention to the left of the grave site.
All eyes moved to the black man dressed in cleric's livery approaching the podium directly behind the grave. Doc clutched his King James Bible tightly to his chest and hesitated for the briefest of instants before stepping behind the wooden structure. He laid his Bible down, opened it to a selected passage, and wiped the tears from his eyes before speaking.
"The great king of ancient Israel, David, said on the death of Saul, who had been a bitter enemy, 'Know ye not that there is a prince and a great man fallen this day in Israel?'
Today we remember that with the death of Conrad Hauser, a great man has fallen. We have heard that the world has lost a great citizen and America has lost a great soldier. And those of us that knew him have lost a personal friend.
We all mourn his loss and feel that our world is a bit lonelier without him. But to you who were close to him, this grief is an added pain, because you wept when he wept and you laughed when he laughed.
And here amidst these familiar surroundings under these Missouri skies, his earthly life has come full circle. It was here that Conrad Hauser was born and reared, that his life was molded. But the Scripture teaches that there is a time to be born, a time to live, and a time to die. Conrad's time to die came last Friday evening."
Muffled sobs were accompanied by the wiping away of tears on almost all the faces present. Even the most stoic of soldiers were moved by the words being spoken. Doc continued, the pain in his voice clear.
"Yesterday, as his body was escorted to the plane for its final journey here, the familiar strains of a hymn he especially loved, maybe the hymn that he loved the most, were played; 'Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me; I once was lost, but now I'm found; was blind, but now I see. Through many dangers, toils and snares, I've already come; `tis grace that brought me safe thus far, for grace will take me home.'
That hymn was written 200 years ago by an Englishman named John Newton. He was a cruel man, a captain of a slave ship. But one night in a fierce storm he turned to God and committed his life to Christ. Newton not only became a preacher of the Gospel, but he influenced William Wilberforce and others in Parliament to bring an end to the slave trade. John Newton came to know the miracle of God's amazing grace. It changed his life, and it changed our lives as well.
And so we say farewell to Conrad Hauser today with hope in our hearts, for our hope is in the eternal promises of the Almighty God."
Doc paused and looked over the assembled crowd, all of whom seemed to be in deep reflection over the words he had spoken. His eyes misted over as the realization hit him. My best friend is dead. He choked back the torrent of tears and rage which threatened to bubble over, concentrating on the task at hand. Get a hold of yourself, Carl! There's a time and a place for your grief and it's not here and not now. Honor his memory now.
Doc moved from behind the podium and asked, "Shall we pray?"
As all the heads in the crowd bowed, he began simply, "God of all comfort, in the silence of this hour we ask Thee to sustain this family and these loved ones, and to deliver them from loneliness, despair, and doubt. Fill their desolate hearts with Thy peace, and may this be a moment of rededication to Thee, our Father. Those of us who have been left behind have the solemn responsibilities of life. Help us to live according to Thy will and for Thy glory so that we will be prepared to meet Thee. We offer our prayer in the name of Him, Who is the resurrection and the light; Jesus Christ our Lord. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen."
As Doc stepped away from the platform, the bugler began to play "Taps". The civilians in the gathering visibly jumped when the first of three volleys in the twenty-one gun salute were fired. At the conclusion, Flint and Beach Head approached the casket and raised the flag from atop it. Taking three side steps away from the mourners, they began folding the banner into a triangle, leaving four stars showing on top. Once they completed their task, Beach Head took the bundle and slowly approached Conrad's mother. As he knelt down their eyes met, hers full of pain, his a mixture of pride and sorrow.
"This flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation and the United States Army as a token of appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service," he said as his voice cracked. "I was honored to serve under him, ma'am. You'll be proud to know your son died valiantly."
Ms. Hauser accepted the flag, laying it in her lap. She reached out and took Wayne's hands, her grip firm and strong. "What I'm proud of is the fact that he died saving lives," she said with a smile. "He loved all of you more than you'll ever know."
As the words left her mouth, she lost her composure and started sobbing hysterically. Not knowing what else to do, the warrior gathered the smaller woman to him and wept along with her. One by one the mourners paid their last respects to the leader they knew as Duke, then filed into the steadily-increasing rain, hoping it would wash away the wounds they all carried from his loss.
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One week later
Snake Eyes was lost thought when a gentle touch on his shoulder broke him out of his reverie. He turned and looked into the sad brown eyes of Stalker. Fearing he would break down yet again, the blond-haired man turned his attention back to the falling rain pounding against the window.
"Ignoring it doesn't make the pain go away, bud," Stalker said. As Snake Eyes once again looked upon his friend and teammate, he could see the hurt in his own eyes reflected in Stalker's own brown orbs.
I cannot believe he is gone, Snake Eyes signed. I still see him and his influence everywhere I look.
"Me, too," Stalker replied. "The pain is still so fresh."
No kidding, Snake Eyes signed as he started to turn back to the window.
"You want me to leave?"
With a sigh, Snake Eyes shook his head in the negative. You are right, old friend. I need to talk to someone, to let my grief and tears spill. I'm tired, Lonzo. Tired of war, tired of life, tired of losing those I love most.
When Stalker didn't reply, the commando continued. First Shana dies, now Conrad. I look at all my friends and I can't help but wonder who will be next. Will it be you? Me? Jinx? I…
He broke off suddenly as his grief overcame him and he erupted in tears. Stalker seemed shocked at the display of emotion. He moved forward to comfort the other man, and was even more amazed when Snake Eyes grabbed him up in a strong embrace.
He returned the hug, letting his support wash out and over his friend of so many years. "Let it all ride, man."
After a few moments, Snake Eyes separated himself from the other soldier, wiping his red-rimmed eyes with the back of his hands.
Thank you, he signed.
"Not a problem."
Stalker's jaw dropped as he interpreted the next set of signals he received. He looked up and saw the determined set to his friend's jaw and the steel reflected in his eyes.
I won't be weak again.
"I believe you buddy," he whispered. "God help me, I believe you…"