"LEST YOU FORGET"

Copyright 1989

(This story is about 6 pages and you may print it if you'd like.)

by S.K. DeSpain

The tall colorfully dressed man softly walked among the rows of markers that lined the cemetery. Every now and then he would pause at one of the cement markers as if to say hello to an old friend and then he would continue on. As the sun started its descent, he found himself in front of the Tomb of the Unknowns. Walking past the sentry, as if he were a ghost, he paid homage to the souls that represented all those who had died and whose identity he alone knew. A few minutes later, he nodded his thanks to the already shaken sentry as he left to start on his journey.

Within the hour he came across a man lying in the shelter of a doorway, his legs drawn up to his chest in the fetal position. The only protection from the bitter night air was the tattered flight jacket he hugged close to his body. He was in the prime of his life but years on the streets had aged him beyond his time. The frail man, his eyes welling up from unspent tears, recognized the passerby kneeling beside him almost immediately and his hand reached out. Accepting the frozen hand, the visitor moved beside him, gathered the ice-cold form in his arms and gently held him until the racking sobs softened

"We must get you home!" the companion urged as he wiped away the remaining tears.

"This is my home." came the gasping reply.

His companion shook his head "But you can't stay here, you'll freeze to death!" he stated as he tried to get up. But his action met with resistance as his burden clung to his striped jacket refusing to cooperate.

"It's too late for me. Please," he pleaded with a voice that was barely audible, "all I ask of you is that you don't let me die alone." And with those words he sagged in the arms that cradled him and drew his last breath.

Minutes later the comrade reached up and gently closed the eyes that stared back into his own. As he did so his hand brushed up against the tarnished set of dog tags around the man's neck and he noted the name. Then his eyes fell upon the silver POW/MIA bracelet that encircled the man's wrist. He read the name and his heart shattered for both bore the same name. Oblivious to the crowd that gathered, the single word "NO!" escaped his lips with all the anguish that tore from his very soul. He felt someone gently take the man from his arms but the words of comfort being offered fell on deaf ears. Alone again, he walked away with a coldness inside of him that was more deadly than the icy wind that whipped at his face.

Forcing himself to continue, he pushed himself onward until he arrived at his next destination some days later. Pulling the door open he entered the old, five-story brick hospital and followed the red line that led to the outpatients' lobby. He shook his head in disbelief at the mass of people who waited, some who stood for lack of seating. As he was about to go upstairs, a commotion in the far corner caught his attention. He walked towards the woman who was angrily talking to the clerk sitting across the counter. He didn't interfere, choosing instead just to listen to the woman speaking.

"Let me see if I have this straight. My husband and 7 other patients are upstairs, lying in a hospital bed, in a hallway. And, according to you, the reason they are in the hallway, is because you don't have room on the ward. Have I got that right so far young man?"

"Yes, Madame" answered the man in low voice.

"But you have wards that have beds, but no patients in then!" her voice reflecting the patience she was quickly running out of.

"What you say is true. However, we don't have the funds to keep those wards open. We try to transfer patients to other hospitals when we can't handle the load, but right now, hospitals in the surrounding vicinity are full themselves."

"And exactly when do you expect to have my husband transferred? He's been there for almost 2 weeks!"

"I honestly don't know" was his only reply.

The woman turned to walk away and almost bumped into the man standing behind her. She looked at him, was momentarily stunned and with a lowered voice said "Maybe you can find someone in Washington who cares enough to listen to you because it is becoming very apparent, they don't care enough to listen to us"!

After she left, he climbed the stairs that lead to the floors above. Randomly, he would enter a room, talk with the patients for a few minutes then repeat the procedure again and again until he had covered all the floors.

Hours after he had left the hospital, screams filled with pain that had gone beyond human endurance still echoed in his ears. And thirty-six hours later the vision of the humiliated amputee who lay in his own waste had yet to fade away as he entered the home of an elderly man.

All that had happened before was immediately pushed aside at the first turn of a doorknob. Upon opening the door, his senses were assaulted with a smell so foul he choked on the bile rising from his stomach. Not bothering to close the door behind him, he went in search for the veteran of two wars. He found him sitting at the kitchen table, upon which lay the remnants of meals eaten long ago. The man himself was sleeping, his head rising with every movement of his chest and his hands, crippled with arthritis, lay folded in his lap. His clothing exceeded filth and the stench from the man's body reminded the visitor more of death than of life.

The man, sensing a presence, woke up with a start. When he saw who the intruder was he made a feeble attempt to get up and greet him. Instead, he found himself being carried to an unknown destination. Within the span of an hour he had been bathed, dressed in clean clothing, and set outside in his once beloved garden where the sun bathed his face in warmth. There had been no words exchanged between himself and his visitor, for even now he sat alone. He could hear pots and pans being banged about, followed by the soft humming of the vacuum cleaner, so he knew he had not been abandoned.

"How long has it been since someone came by to check on you?" his houseguest asked after they had eaten.

"I really can't say. At my age, one day just drifts into another." the old man replied.

“I couldn't help but notice the pictures of your family on the fireplace mantle. Have you seen or heard from them lately?" Words he wished he could retract after he saw the sadness come over the man's face.

"I've survived them all, Son.' he told his tablemate. Then a smile slowly appeared on his face. The remainder of the day was spent with memories he had long wanted to share but had no one to share them with until now. It was well into the night when he finally ran out of steam and found himself being put to bed by loving hands. As he started drifting off to sleep, he felt a kiss being laid upon his forehead. Instinct told him he would wake to a lonely existence once again. He never knew that his companion of the day had stayed by his bedside long past the time he fell asleep.

At daybreak the visitor knew the time had come to leave. As he approached the front door, his eyes caught an object hanging from a hook and next to it, a framed certificate. There was no need to read what had been proclaimed for the sky blue ribbon, at whose base stood thirteen white stars and a medal, told the story. A feeling of total desolation possessed his soul as he closed the door behind him and walked into the fog-shrouded morning.

With only a few days remaining, he started back to the city of his birth. With each step that brought him closer he found his anger turning to rage. By the time he arrived, he was beyond fury and determined to find answers to the questions that were plaguing his mind.

Not being one who was quick to prejudge, he decided to pay a visit to the Committee on Veterans Affairs. He sat there for days listening to the bantering amongst the members, hearing nothing that could justify what he had seen. He next paid a visit to both Houses of Congress. At the end of two weeks he had heard enough and decided to take matters into his own hands.

The next day an invitation was issued to the President, Vice President, Cabinet Members and every Senator and Representative. All that received it knew that the summons was not to be denied. Three days later, precisely at noon, they all gathered together at the prescribed place. They spoke among themselves, each asking the other the reason why they were called. Suddenly the crowd became very quiet as the white haired and partially bearded man walked up the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial. He no longer wore the patriotic colors for which he was known, choosing instead to wear black. When he reached the top of the staircase, he stood for a moment while the words of the man imaged there came back to haunt him “To care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and orphan.” Finally, he turned to face the crowd and in his arms he carried the military clad body of a man with a POW/MIA bracelet wrapped around the wrist of the arm that dangled down. Certain that he had his guests attention he spoke, his voice filled with anger and anguish.

"When I called, this man and thousands of others, took to arms to defend this nation against oppression. When the battle was over you mourned your dead, awarded those who went beyond the call of duty and honored all those who served."

"Now one of the rights they fought to preserve is being denied them - that of living and dying with dignity. For I have heard with my own ears, the screams of men suffering from needless pain; I have seen with my own eyes, men lying in their waste much like animals while the old and dying are being ignored and left to die alone. I offer to you this man in my arms, who as a POW survived the tortures of the damned, only to freeze to death in his own homeland, as proof of their plight." With his voice raised in anger he continued:

"You say you can no longer give them what they rightfully deserve. You call it cutting the deficit. I call it a mockery for while one hand votes to cut their benefits, the other votes to spend billions on reaching the outer limits and billions more for foreign aid. Add to that insult, the pay raise you give yourselves, while your veterans die from neglect, and live in poverty and pain. I beg of you to explain to me, if you can, the justification behind your actions for it is beyond my comprehension!"

At that precise moment all those gathered heard the circular sound of a single bugler playing taps. Looking around they saw no one and turned to look at their host, whose eyes had drifted toward the heavens. Their eyes followed but none among them was so privileged to see the two souls, one who died by the hand of God, the other by his own, wing there way to their maker.

While their eyes still scanned the skies, their ears picked up the angered voice of their host. "Lest you forget those who fought to keep this nation free, we shall haunt your halls of democracy until this atrocity has been righted!" And with those words, he lowered his head in shame while a single tear trekked down his cheek. When next the crowd looked toward the staircase they found the man had been flanked on his right by a army green uniformed amputee bound to a wheelchair and on his left stood an elderly man clad in dress blues, leaning heavily on a cane. Around his neck he wore his nation's highest military honor. The governing body was still in stunned silence when the vision before them suddenly evaporated into thin air.

That night in the Janitors rooms of both the House and Senate, men and women alike were whispering among themselves about the strange happenings of the past few hours. Try as they might, their supervisors could not convince their co-workers that the four men who were seen appearing and disappearing at will could only be a hoax.

At the same time, the Congressional security force was seen scurrying about the floors looking for the illusive intruders. Coming across a Senator about to leave and thinking he may have seen them, they questioned him.

“They went through there." he informed them as he pointed in the general direction.

“But Sir, there's nothing there but a solid wall!" one guard replied.

“I know, Son, and something tells me this is only the beginning." the unnerved Senator answered as he walked into the elevator.

As the guard at the door logged the departure of the senior Senator, he couldn't help but notice the last entry. In shock and disbelief, he unconsciously read aloud the information printed in red bold letters:

Visitors Name: UNCLE SAM