Trees grew up through the remnants of barbed wire. Time had passed and the war was over. The locals kept the graveyard clear, but the rest of the camp was reverting back to as it had been before the war. The wooden crosses had been replaced by marble crosses, forever marking the resting spots of the prisoners.
His headstone was no different than any of the others. Nothing distinguished him from any of the others. There was nothing to commemorate his sacrifice, nothing but the group of men that stood before his grave. Because of him, they were still alive.
"It should have been me.'
"But then it would have been all of us."
There was a pause as the men stood.
"It really should have been me."
"It could have been any of us."
"But it wasn't."
"No, it wasn't."
"It was him."
"We got lucky."
"We were lucky for four years."
Another period of silence.
"By all rights none of us should be here."
"But we still are."
"Yeah, we are."
"But I wish that he were too."
"We all do."
They stood in silence a while longer.
Then they slowly left, leaving him to rest in peace.
FIN