The Hero

The Hero
They had been coming to the café for breakfast every other Thursday. Eight o’clock sharp they would pull up outside grab the paper from the passenger seat and climb out of their trucks. Billy behind the counter brought them coffee, a glass of water, then asked whether they were ready to order.
‘We need just a minute’, Roy told him. Billy moved away with a sigh he never sighed, knowing damn well what the two old-timers were going to order in a minute even if they appeared not to. But they had surprised him once and since then he waited them out, even if there never was a second surprise.
‘What do we need a minute for,’ Johnny asked?
‘Well did you see the front page and the article in that paper you got there?’
‘I saw it.’
‘Well we need to talk about that.’
Johnny nodded. ‘But I need to eat before I get into politics with you Roy.’
Roy shrugged and raised an arm to indicate for Billy to return and take their order.
‘And what will it be this morning?’
‘The usual for me,’ said Roy.
‘And I have the same,’ Johnny said.
Billy nodded and turned and sighed and walked back to the counter to stick the order up for the guys in the kitchen to have it done.
‘It’s a fine morning,’ Roy said.
‘Getting cold,’ Johnny pointed out.
They sat by the window from where they could look all the way up or down the street. Looking up the town soon stopped and the road curved out of view. Looking down there was the historic courthouse that was now empty and good for nothing. You got the odd tourist stopping by to take a picture. They would mostly stop again at the Café, order some food before enquiring about their whereabouts for they were lost.
There had been over 1200 people living in Silverwood City only 17 years ago, now it was not even half of that. One of those was Edwin Royler who made a career joining the army and became a hero when he came to the rescue of some wounded guys taking himself a bullet in the shoulder while getting them to safety.
When he returned to recover the town greeted him, like they hadn’t greeted anyone in a hundred years or more. Banners stretched across the street welcoming him back, the whole town waved and cheered and celebrated. He had been awarded the Silver Star for bravery in the face of the enemy and became the towns most celebrated citizen at the age of 24.
A few months on he was shipped back to the warzone he had escaped from. Now 2 years later he was on the front page of the paper again.

The first time around Ed’s platoon had been shipped out, there wasn’t a man he didn’t know. This time he travelled alone on a domestic airline. He had to change flights in Europe until boarding a military craft to take him the last stretch. When he arrived, his platoon had been decimated by death and injuries. There were those who had lost limbs and those who had lost their minds. Only about a dozen of the old lot remained.
They had grown harder!
His own smile was forced, but the worst was being no longer sure why he was there.
He blended in as he was meant to and followed orders. But had the ‘Why?’ and ‘What for?’ question on his mind, a question a soldier should not dwell on for too long for it will demoralize and might kill him in the end.
He was not there to think, he was there to follow orders. He wondered whose orders they were and whose interests they were fighting for. During the night he often woke abruptly.
He worried, everyone did!
Three month after his return Miller, one of the new guys, a tall kid of 21 caught a bullet right next to him. They had been in a ditch. They had been waiting there for hours and then suddenly the quiet was broken and Miller hit, not once but twice, twice in the head. There wasn’t much left of the head Ed saw when he dared to move and look. He pissed himself and started to cry, stayed there for five more hours until they came to get him.
They put him on drugs for a time and that made it better although he knew he wasn’t right and still had those same questions on his mind. It was the time he sat down to write a will, just in case, he assured himself. He had written one before, but hadn’t taken it too seriously, this time nothing about it was funny. He handed it to his commanding officer, who looked at him, asked whether he was OK then filed it under R. If he was to get killed the envelope would be opened. He was in no particular rush.

Roy and Johnny sat there in silence, looking up and down the road and casually flipping through the paper.
‘The boy is on the front cover of the paper again,’ Roy said.
‘Yes, they are sending him home now.’
‘Coming home as a hero, is he?’
There was a little sarcasm in Roy’s voice. Johnny shrugged his shoulder then replied.
‘He pulled those boys to safety.’
Roy snorted. ‘I was a Lieutenant!’
‘And what did you ever do,’ asked Johnny?
‘I trained them, I trained them not to get into trouble and trained them to get each other out, if they did.’
‘But you never had a bullet fly around your head.’
‘In theory I did, fought many battles that way.’
Now Johnny snorted.
‘In theory I got near killed in battle.’
‘What happened,’ Roy asked although he had heard the story before.
‘I was wounded before we went into battle. ‘ He shrugged his shoulders.
‘It doesn’t make you a hero!’
‘I never said I was a hero in the first place, stop putting things in my mouth.’
‘I knew this would go bad.’
‘I told you I needed something to eat before talking politics with you.’
They sat in silence and sipped their coffees while they waited for Billy.

Since Miller had gone down right next to him Ed was overanxious, anything made him jump, pills or no pills. After a couple of weeks and no obvious physical damage they moved him back to active duty. Tense like a coiled snake he would quietly sit with the others, but rarely say anything. He knew it wouldn’t do any good to voice his doubts. They all had them and they all had their fears as well.
And then they would be send out again to survey an area which was rumoured to be a favoured hiding place of the enemy. They moved in at daybreak and found little to substantiate that claim. After they had secured the area and were about to retreat, there were a number of explosions.
No one was hurt.
They all returned to the relative safety of their camp, somewhat relieved for the moment. But tension hung in the air, growing thicker over time until there was anonther discharge like the one just gone and then it would start over again.

Billy finally arrived with their plates. A short stack of pancakes, bacon, sausage and fried potatoes. They asked for extra syrup and Billy pointed at the bottle on the table. He poured more coffee and they all grinned and nodded at each other and he returned to the bar, while Roy and Johnny started on their breakfast.
They chewed quietly, cut and sliced purposefully, eyes on the food they spooned and shovelled until their plates were emptied, each now placing their cutlery on its side and reaching for the napkin to wipe away at their mouth and hands until satisfaction was reached, then drank steaming coffee from their cups, until those were placed back on the table.
There was a pause.
‘Now then,’ Roy started.
‘They had him shipped back, and it said the funeral would be later in the week.’
‘That’s not all it said.’
‘He’s still a hero.’
‘Maybe he was in the past, like when you look back and you see the past and he was a hero then, but now with what he has done, I’m not sure!’
‘He did his best out there.’
Roy leant forward, his elbows pushed against the hard tabletop and he almost hissed at Johnny.
‘Did you actually read the paper? Read it and understand it or are you going soft and senile.’
‘I got the gist of it.’
‘Did you read it?’
‘I read it.’
‘It’s not something you do, you know that, it’s practically treason, certainly un-American, very un-American. If he wasn’t dead I would charge him for it.’
Johnny ruffled his thick silvery hair. ‘It’s not that simple Roy.’
‘It’s that simple when I am looking at it. Imagine they would all do this, it would be anarchy. It would send the wrong message to people. It would be the end of this country. I would charge him and have him discharged without military honours of any kind.’
‘That’s sort of what he asked for.’
‘He denounced this country, asking what he did.’
Billy strolled over and hushed them, and they quieted for a moment as he started to clear the table.
‘You seen the paper Billy?’ Johnny asked.
Billy nodded. ‘Yeah, I’ve seen the paper.’
‘You read about Edwin?’
‘I sure did.’
‘What did you make of it?’
‘You mean about the funeral?’
Both Roy and Johnny nodded.
‘Well I’ve never served, like he did.’ He paused. ‘I reckon he had a reason for asking it though.’
Roy was opening the paper and straightening it out before he started to read from it.
‘Edwin Royler, highly commended for bravery in action not too long ago, is returning home after being killed in an explosion. Only a few months prior to this sad event private Royler drew up a new will, stating explicitly that he was to be laid to rest in a civilian grave, without any military involvement. He also insisted on a complete absence of any army paraphernalia that apparently being a guard of honour, a flag or any other reference including a uniform. A small service will be held at Silverwoods Cemetery on Saturday afternoon.’ Roy looked up from the paper and huffed. ‘It will upset the parents!’
‘I imagine they are upset already, their son just got killed.’
‘And then brought shame on the family. What do you think Billy?’
‘I don’t know Roy, he’s dead!’
‘I reckon it’s treason, I would have him dishonourably discharged, the army and the country should wash their hands of him.’
‘But that’s what he did.’
‘What’s that?’
‘He got himself discharged.’

© Marcus Bastel
http://marcusbastel.com