Veterans' Day

The red ball of the sun sank slowly through the purple clouds and behind the distant trees. The old soldier sat quietly watching the sunset. Reflections from the gold aviator wings pinned on his threadbare robe flickered along the wall with each raspy breath.

It was the same scene he had watched for years.

The young blonde nurse always stood in the background until the last rays had tinged the sky in orange and the evening star appeared before wheeling the chair back into the room.

Her shift replacement was waiting impatiently. "Cripes, Chris, why do you let him waste your time like this? You went off the clock half an hour ago! The old fart doesn't know one sunset from another anyway!"

Despite her best intentions, she glared at the male nurse replacing her. "Diaz, if you were half the man you brag about being, you would have a soul... but that is far too much to ask of you. You can take over as soon as I finish with the Colonel."

"Is he here yet, sugar?" asked the old man.

"No, Colonel, not yet, but I'm sure he will along shortly." replied the nurse.

It had become a game with them over the years. The old man asked and the nurse answered. She knew that he knew his son would never come, but neither would ever voice that knowledge. It was a quiet bond they shared.

She knew because when he had moved into this room in the home 5 years ago, before advancing senility had robbed him of his daily life, she had unpacked a box of military memorabilia he insisted on displaying.

Among the pictures of old warplanes and (then young) warriors, she found herself looking into the eyes of another handsome young flier. This one stood tall and obviously proud beside a jet with a shark's mouth painted across its nose. The inscription across the bottom read "To Dad, with Admiration, Affection, and Love, Maj. Johnny Allen Jr., Korat, Thailand, December, 1972."

Wrapped in the same paper were two letters, worn and wrinkled from many handlings... many re-readings. "It is with deepest regret that we inform you of the death..." she read..."crashed north of Hanoi, North Vietnam, while participating in a successful rescue mission for a downed comrade." The second was a posthumous commendation and promotion notice for Lieutenant Colonel John M. Allen II.

Long before his mental doors had rusted shut, the old man had taken the young nurse to heart as the daughter he never had.

He had told her, with no hint of bitterness, how his own wife had left years ago, leaving him to his "mistress, the sky." She had taken their only child, his son to raise far from the military life, but in the end, son followed father into the skies of the warrior.

Chris also knew that for several years after his son's death, the old man had tried to make amends with his daughter in law, but she refused to speak to him. If it were not for him, her Johnny would have been alive, going to work at 8 and coming home at 5 to a house in the suburbs.

What the nurse did not know was that his daughter-in-law had married a college professor two months after her husband had been reported killed, and from that day on refused to let the old man have any contact with his grandchild.

The Colonel never spoke of this. It was his personal cross to bear, and though she often wondered about the grandson, she never asked. To her it often seemed like once a family put a relative in a nursing home, they severed all ties. It was for these that she always showed extra affection.

"Chris? I got six more geezers to get ready for supper, chiquita! I ain't got all day!"

Her momentary musings interrupted, Chris felt her face redden. In a show of defiance, she leaned down and kissed the old soldier's wrinkled cheek, amazed to find it clean shaven.

Normally the patients were shaved every 3 days, and tomorrow would be the Colonel's turn. Before she could consider this any further, the old man turned to her and said quite clearly "Goodbye, Chris, my lovely angel!"

For a moment she thought she saw the old sparkle in the nordic blue eyes. She was never sure because they immediately returned to the senile dullness she knew too well. Back into her routine again, she patted the withered shoulder and said "Good night, Colonel. See ya in the morning."

After Chris left, Diaz moved to take the handles of the chair and wheel him back into the bedroom. He found the wheel brakes locked, however, and cursed under his breath as he bent to unlock them.

"Old man, you are a pain in my ass, and I am going to see that you know it, Okay amigo?"

Diaz yanked the old man's chair around a half circle to face back into the spartan room. Something fluttered from the chair to lie on the floor as the chair and passenger were violently spun.

As the chair came about, Diaz started and came up short of dumping the old man, as he had already planned, onto the waiting bed.

"Madre Dios!"

Standing before him was a military officer, in full dress uniform, gold wings gleaming on his breast, polished silver oak leaves of a Lt. Colonel pinned to his epaulets.

Next to him stood a younger man in flight gear and cradling his helmet under one arm.

The shock of the sudden silent appearance now rendered the attendant speechless, as his heart seemed to have jumped into his throat.

"We'll take care of him now." said the soldier.

Diaz recognized the authority in the man's voice and wisely stifled the expletive that was on his tongue. Just as quickly and with an ease born of practice, Diaz responded "Hey, sure! No problem! The general is my favorite patient, right general?"

"Never mind orderly, we'll handle it now.", said the younger man.

Diaz was on the verge of protesting the term "orderly" when he saw the blaze in the younger man's eyes and decided to take it up with his shift supervisor.

He closed the door behind him and headed for the nurses station to complain. Families weren't supposed to wander freely in and out. That could cause untold trouble for him and others like him in these places.

Chris, still completing her paperwork for the shift, heard Diaz complaining about the patient's apparent relatives and how they were interfering with his "care" of the old man.

Within moments, she arrived at the old man's door. It was ajar and when she entered the room, nothing seemed amiss.

Then she noticed the Colonel slumped in his wheelchair, still facing the sunset across his balcony. On the floor, next to the chair lay a brown envelope, bearing the name of the US Government, Department of Defense.

Inside was a short telegram message. "We regret to inform you that Major John M. Allen, III, was killed in action during Operation Desert Storm..."

Sitting beside the wheelchair, the nurse watched the last sunset colors fade into darkness. When the evening star broke through she quietly wiped away her tears and buzzed the nurses station.

"Goodbye Colonel."