The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter

John was the crusader.

He was nineteen when he entered the Marines simply because he needed to get away.

He was twenty one when his mother's death brought him home again.

He was in the hospital for two days after a bar fight. All hell had broken loose after he had thrown another patron across the table. The girl had said no.

He was sure he had married an angel.

He was elated when his family became complete with his youngest son's birth. He swore nothing would ever harm them.

He was twenty two years older and alone in a motel room when he began wondering where he had gone wrong.

He was afraid that the sense of duty he had ingrained into his oldest boy would one day get him killed. He had too much of his mother's compassion in him.

He was heartbroken when he heard of his youngest boy's loss. It was a loss that would drive his son his son for the rest of his life. He had too much of his father in him.

He was helpless in that cabin. Every promise he had ever made to his boys was ripped to shreds as he watched his oldest bleed to death before his very eyes.

He was going to finish the crusade he started but not before he saved his son's life. It was the least he could for Mary's boys.

John was the crusader.