The garrison assembled in the square for the funeral in front of Strongheart’s bier. A Stormwind flag draped his corpse, for which Dinpik was grateful. She stood at the bier’s head between Fitch and a black-haired draenei woman in ivory robes, Jestine.
She listened to Fitch’s eulogy, wondering how much of it was true and how much of it was speaking well of the dead. Had Strongheart’s true position as figurehead been well-known, or covered up with excuses and rationales? Had any of the people here liked the man, as a person or a commander? Volunteered to be his pall bearers?
And why did she care? A pointless train of thought, now.
At Dinpik's "Army Dreamers" - wow.
So many years hearing about vital interests, supremacy, nation building, macro economy blah blah, and so little mention made of the incidence of military suicides and other signs of people being worn past endurance. This installment left me gobsmacked. It is hard indeed to capture a void; an emptiness. You succeeded. It brought back the memories of men I have known who carried the ghosts of Belleau Wood, the Ardennes, Guadalcanal, Chosin Reservoir and other places around with them for the rest of their lives.
I happened to be listening to this as I read it. Serendipity is a wonderful thing. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=shdiTRxTJb4
Thank you for writing this. It brought back to mind some rank and file heroes.
Unsung, each and every one of them.