by Curtis George

Created on: June 17, 2008

The day was sunny and hot. People gathered and celebrated this day that was appointed to remember veterans for what they had done. Some stayed home and invited relatives and friends to their barbeques. Soldiers and veterans attired in their Class A uniforms in best conditions; shoes polished, metals and buttons shined, shirts and pants ironed. It was a day for them to shine.

Not too far away, a mother came out of a restaurant, pushing a wheelchair on which Henry sat. He saw a parade that was just a few blocks away. The vibration of the drum played by an army band reached his ears. He recalled something similar to the sounding drum beats. Firing rifles and explosions.

It had been another hot day on a routine patrol in Baghdad. As a gunner, Private First Class Henry Longman had sat on the back of the humvee. He had sucked on a cigarette that had just been lit. "Get rid of that," Sergeant Patterson seeing through the rear-view mirror had warned Henry. He took a deep inhale for the last time and spit it gently and it landed right next to his boot, so that he could pick it up when Sergeant Patterson was not looking. So far the ride had been smooth; occasionally the vehicle shuddered due to bumpy grounds, since some roads in Iraq were hardly paved at all. As Henry drank from the canteen, an unusual bump alarmed him. One side of the vehicle was lifted up a few inches above the ground. It was then followed by an explosion.

A kid, holding a flag, excited, ran towards the wheelchair and greeted Henry. "My father wants me to thank you for protecting us." The little girl said shyly. It was an adorable moment to anyone. Henry's mother responded with a smile. The girl then ran back to her father. Henry was speechless. To anyone it would seem as if Henry was warmed by the kid's comment. It was not so. Henry could not hear.

The explosion had thrown Henry off the vehicle. He had lost some consciousness; he still had felt an unusual numbness below his thighs. Sergeant Patterson had been down too. Soldiers from the following humvees dismounted and popped a few consecutive shots in any directions in which the insurgents might have been hiding. One soldier seeing the wounds of Henry cursed loudly. He recalled the first aid class and applied as much pressure as possible to Henry's bleeding wound. Two tourniquets were used to stop his drenching thighs. He carried Henry to an intact vehicle with a functional radio and commanded the driver, who happened to be one rank lower than himself, to drive to a safe zone and call for a helicopter evacuation to the hospital. The driver stepped hard on the gas and took off.
They arrived at the parade. By-passers greeted Henry and some gave him flowers to show their appreciation. He was unfit even to carry the flowers, so his mother had to refuse the offers. However, not all were friendly; some teens looked at Henry in disgust. In the parade, a battalion of soldiers who had just returned home were marching. The crowds cheered loudly to welcome them.

"Have you seen enough? Son," His mother asked gently, withdrawing a napkin from her pocket and cleaning his drool on his chin. He blinked as a way to agree. His Purple Heart unpinned and fell to the ground. The clanking sound reached his mother's ears. She picked it up and stared at it. "All this for what?"

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