TROUBL

Dear Linz,

Today, we marched to Fisher’s Memorial service. The formation was our first in a month. It felt a little weird. First Sergeant called my company to attention and it was as if the earth froze. The stillness hung, “right face. Forward march.” And so we went… As we marched I watched the back of Sgt. Meyers’ heels. I watched his boots splashing through mud; kicking mud up on the back of his trousers; smashing small rocks further into the Earth. I watched his boots make impressions in the Earth, dry and wet, he left footprints… We all did.

As we traveled we sometimes mixed dry soil with mud or left mud prints in dry soil… And I thought to myself “my boots are doing the same thing.” I am leaving impressions in the Earth with every step I take. The Earth, something much older and greater than me is moved, is changed, is affected by every step I take.

I meditated within myself as we marched on to the rhythm of 1st Sgt’s commands and the thumping of our own boots. “Maritime march, Company halt, Left face, At ease…” And we stood waiting to file into seats for the service.

As we stood in our seats and the service began soldiers spoke, music played, but Fisher’s kevlar helmet placed on top of his rifle, standing straight up, stood immovable. As though it did not acknowledge what we were saying. I stood remembering Fish making fun of me and making football plays. He was the best quarterback in the Battalion. I recall the last touchdown pass he threw me. It was like I didn’t even catch the ball, it just fell into my hands… And I started singing “Lets get it on,” Marvin Gaye and dancing. Fish laughed and mimicked me.

I stood there at attention; Fisher’s memorial went on… And I wondered what impressions Fish left in the Earth; what rocks did he smash; what mud did he splash; how had he changed the Earth. I realized that this is all we have when we are gone: our footprints, our impression on the Earth, our impression on people.

Fish was a great person; his impressions will be remembered by both people and the Earth… The 1st Sgt did roll call for fourth squad to end the service: “SFC Mckeown.” “Here Top.” “Sgt Sparrow.” “Here Top!” “Spc. Scognomillo.” “Here Top.” “Spc. Fisher… Spc. Fisher… Spc. Fisher”

Up until now I had stood proud, at attention, chin up, chest out, but Fish did not answer after 1st Sgt. Called him three times, and then three shots rang out. I forgot the order I was given to remain proud and I cried more than I ever cried in my adult life. With tears pouring from my face I stepped into the aisle: right face, forward march, halt. I saluted Fisher’s memorial; Kevlar, rifle, photo, boots, and I touched his dog tags… “Left face,” and I marched away…

My friend is gone… May he rest with whom he began.