Mother’s Son by Albert Baker February 2008

This is a fanfic story—not for profit

The suffering was almost unbearable. How could a human heart withstand the terrible pummeling that the death of a loved one brought forth? He found that it could. At some point, like a cog in a turning wheel, the pain was briefly disengaged. In that moment the heart received its respite and that breath of oxygen required to go on for another minute. Distraction met his harried brain, giving it, too, the moment of relief it needed. Thoughts were staggered, disconnected, and forgetful. But they were his thoughts, and he persisted. He just wasn’t sure why…

“Sergeant Saunders?”

The solitary sergeant looked up at the grey-haired Army Chaplain standing over him.

“I’m Saunders.”

“Your transport should be coming soon. I was wondering if you’d like to talk while you’re waiting?” The Chaplain sat down by Saunders and began speaking without waiting for a reply. “I understand your two brothers arrived back home in time for the funeral. I’m sorry that you weren’t located sooner.”

The funeral. Saunders felt his stomach drop at the sound of the words. He imagined his sister Louise, dressed in black, holding onto her two brothers, wondering where her third brother was.

“I was out on patrol. We were hold up in a cave because of a German push, and had to maintain radio silence. No one could contact me.”

“Yes, unfortunately these things happen in war. Had your mother been ill a long time?”

The sergeant looked startled. “No…I don’t know. She was fine when I left and never wrote that she was sick. I don’t think so.” But she probably wouldn’t have told me. She was like that. Had to take care of everything and everybody but herself.

“You’ve been in the war a long time, then. North Africa?”

“Yeah.” Saunders found himself growing resentful. The last thing he wanted to talk about right now was his history as a soldier.

“Saunders, I have been a chaplain during two world wars now, and I’ve talked to many soldiers like you. I want to say something to you that won’t necessarily help you now, but may help you later.”

The noncom looked up with questioning eyes as the chaplain placed his hand on the sergeant’s shoulder.

“Remember that when your mother saw you off to war, her concern was just for you. That never changed. She knew that you would be in danger and that you were fighting for her and for what you believed in. She no doubt died at peace, knowing that you were not also burdened with worry for her--the kind of worry that could have gotten you killed. She wouldn’t want you to be burdened now with guilt. You see, that would mean her sacrifice was in vain.”

As the chaplain finished talking, a transport truck pulled up, the driver calling several names, including “Saunders”. The sergeant nodded at the old man and, grabbing his pack, swung it inside before jumping on with three others.

“Hi Sarge.” A loud voice boomed from the middle of the truck. Saunders looked toward the familiar face.

“Oh, hi Preston. You get some R&R?”

“Yeah, finally. I sure am surprised to see you here after the news from St. Pierre.”

Saunders stiffened. St. Pierre was the last location of First Squad.

“What’s the news from St.Pierre?”

“I heard it on the way back here. The Krauts overran the place. Your battalion took heavy casualties and there are a lot of people cut off and missing.”

“What about First Squad and Hanley?”

“I’m not sure, but I think both First and Second squad got hit hard. Sorry, Sarge.”

Saunders felt a fog lift, as adrenaline rushed through his body. He had to make his decision quickly. Memories of his mother and the chaplain’s words pulsed through his head. His one hesitation was for his younger sister, but he realized what he’d known all along--his younger brothers were now men like him, and they were there for her. He pushed by Preston to the front of the truck and knocked on the back window to get the driver’s attention. “Pull over!” He shouted.

As the truck grinded to a halt, Saunders jumped out and started his hike back to the lines. He was, of course, his mother’s son.

END