Who He Was

         He shuffled along, scraping  his shoes along the concrete sidewalk,  he half stepped, half dragged his feet in concert with the padded tap of his cane.  His shoulders, draped with what was once part of a suit that now hung at least two sizes too big.  His body, now drooping with age, tottered slightly, as he struggled through the meandering crowd that gathered along the sidewalk.  He too, sought a place along the sidewalk, a decent, if not good view, of what was yet to come.

         I hurried my pace through the crowd, not to seek a better view of the street, but rather to aide this man through the mindless maze that engulfed us.  As I reached his side, I slowed my pace to sync with his.  I noticed the cap that he wore was slightly kiltered to one side, but I could still read the embroidered lettering, "World War II Bastogne 101st Airborne".  It was then, that I noticed the array of ribbons that had once adorned his uniform, now slightly faded, were pinned to his jacket.  Amongst those ribbons, two stood out, one given for the Purple Heart, signifying that he had been wounded.  His had two clusters, which meant he had been wounded three times.  The other ribbon was for the Bronze Star, his also had a "V" for valor.


         I set my folding chair on a spot on the green island, I turned to him and offered my chair..  He nodded  a thank you and sat down.  A few moments later, the procession passed, first the color guard, followed by the flag draped coffin.  Another serviceman had paid the price for our freedom.  He stood as erect as he could and saluted as the coffin passed.
         We stood, side by side until the procession had long past.  As I bent over to begin folding the chair.  He looked at my cap..

         "Viet Nam."

         I nodded.

         "Welcome home."

         I choked a thank you as tears welled in my eyes.  He reached over and clasped my hand and said.
         "I understand."

         We spoke for a few minutes before we parted, then I stood alone and watched him drift into the dwindling crowd.

         I read in the town's local obituary that he had passed away.  It mentioned that he had served in the Army during World War II and not much else.  As I dressed to pay my respect, I decided to pin my ribbons on my jacket.  Others may not have known who he was.  But I did.