Fiction

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The boat rocked violently from the heavy rains. I looked down anxiously and swallowed hard, doing my best to keep last night’s dinner safely in my stomach. Once again the boat swayed. My innards rocked violently. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to keep my composure. Daddy said men weren’t supposed to cry. Not even when wanting to heave their lunch. I kept my composure and my supper.

Suddenly the front of the duck erupted with water. The driver had opened the locked gates and pushed the levers forward. We were about to be delivered. The beach was in sight and my queasiness returned. I wasn’t supposed to be afraid. The Lord was with me. After all, I was a man of the cloth. I prayed over others who were fearful of taking their last breath, but I wasn’t allowed to be fearful. The Lord and my father would have none of that. Once again, I choked back the tears and the queasiness. This was no time to be weak. The young men needed me. Now more than ever.

The captain called me by name. “O’Malley! Front and center!” He bellowed. I donned the most serious game face I could muster and placed my purple satin stole over my neck. I watched as the seawater splashed over the sides of the boat, almost as if in slow motion, impregnating the satin and dripping from the crosses emblazoned in gold hanging near my waistline. The cool salty water relieved me from my trance. I pulled my crucifix from my knapsack and politely pushed my way to the front of the duck.

I raised the crucifix high in the air and began the prayer of general absolution over my comrades and my friends for what might be the last time.

“Father God, we all stand before you unworthy of the Kingdom of Heaven. You know our sins and our shortcomings. We pray that you grant us absolution in this time of great necessity as we face the possibility of coming to join you in heaven. We come before you, Soldiers of Christ asking that you forgive us of all our faults and failures, of what we have done and what we have failed to do and grant us your peace, strength and wisdom as we go forth in battle to preserve the truths of your Kingdom.”

“We ask this through Christ our Lord.”

“In the name of the father, and of the son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.”

As I made the sign of the cross over the bowed heads of my soon to be fallen brethren, I felt a burden lifted from me and from them. The Lord would protect us – or take us home to be with him.

Captain Peterson barked, “Okay men, take the beach!”

At that moment the gate on the duck fell forward and the once somber troops ran toward the entrance behind me.

“God Bless America!” They yelled in unison.

“God Bless all of you!” I yelled back.

Water splashed wildly as the enemy bullets hit the water near the boat. Chaotic shouting filled the air as grown men began to scream for their mothers. I stood frozen, my back to the carnage unfolding on the beach. I couldn’t turn around.

“God bless all of you.” I mumbled to myself.

I could taste the saltwater in my mouth as tears began to stream down my face. At that instant I returned from my memory of the past to the television news broadcast I was watching in the present.

With the saltwater tears still streaming from my eyes, I knelt before my TV and prayed for the soldiers I last saw on the beach that dreary day in my youth. I also prayed for the youth dying every day.

“God bless all of you.” I mumbled to myself. “God bless all of you.”

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