The little campfires, rapidly increasing to hundreds in number, would shoot up along the hills and plains, and as if by magic, acres of territory would be illuminous with them. Soon they would be surrounded by the soldiers, who made it an inevitable rule to cook their coffee first.”
–John D. Billings
Mornin’ to yuh, Pard. Extry, extry, strong coffee this mornin’ in honor of those departed before us. A solemn, yet thankful day is upon us. So lift up yur cup, an’ here’s to the dear departed souls who served to keep this country strong and safe.
Say, Pard, roll up yur sleeve. Yep, I remember when yuh got that wound; it was up on the Divide not far from where ol’ Taylor had his tradin’ post. I remember it, for I got a matchin’ one the next day. Right here along my fifth rib. I remember that ol’ boy, MacDonald I think was his name, who said he saw an ol’ boy with a hole right next to his navel after the Battle of Glorieta Pass. I see yuh grinnin’ yuh do remember what he said, “If’n a person has to have an extra hole that’s as good a place as any to have one.” From what I reckon he went through life with a bullet somewheres in his guts and a twin navel.
How’s the coffee? See, told yuh–strong! Since we’re rememberizin’, do yuh recall what ol’ Bill said? Nah, not Buffalo, but that thar English fellow, Bill Shakespeare or something like that. Let’s see if I can remember some of it for it sure is fittin’ for us ol’ vets of the wars. “From this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembere’d; we few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he to-day that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile…”
Pard, an’ let’s not forget that there are all kinds of wounds, not jist the physical ones. There are those within the inner soul, those scars upon the mind. There’ some scars where the darts of ol’ slewfoot hit us. It reminds me kinda of you, when yuh don’t check yur cinch. Sometimes we don’t get the shield of faith up in time an’ one of them nasty arrows from the devil hits us. That’s when we can sure be thankful for that balm of Gilead.
Have yurself a good weekend, an’ if’n yuh see any brothers-in-arms, give them a howdy-do.
Vaya con Dios.