A middle-aged woman stood...
Illustration
A middle-aged woman stood in the shadows of the railroad platform. The first rays of dawn were just appearing over the distant hills, as the headlight of the locomotive pierced the semidarkness. The woman was looking toward that light awaiting the return of her soldier son.
A few minutes later, the train stopped, and one soldier after another stepped down from the coach and ran into the arms of loved ones. The baggage men began to unload some large boxes, as the woman walked to one about eight-feet long, and three-feet wide and deep. Tears filled her eyes as she ran her hand along the rough-hewn box until she came to a brass plate bearing her son's name.
Her son had come home from the war, but not as the others. He had given his life as a sacrifice on foreign soil. He had fought the enemy of oppression and was not as lucky as the others. She found it very difficult to control her grief as she thought of many happy experiences she and her son had shared together in earlier years.
The woman also thought of the folly of war. Was winning a war worth the high cost in human lives. She had great hopes for her son in life -- perhaps he might be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a legislator. Now these hopes were dashed and could never be recovered.
"How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished."
-- Dessem
A few minutes later, the train stopped, and one soldier after another stepped down from the coach and ran into the arms of loved ones. The baggage men began to unload some large boxes, as the woman walked to one about eight-feet long, and three-feet wide and deep. Tears filled her eyes as she ran her hand along the rough-hewn box until she came to a brass plate bearing her son's name.
Her son had come home from the war, but not as the others. He had given his life as a sacrifice on foreign soil. He had fought the enemy of oppression and was not as lucky as the others. She found it very difficult to control her grief as she thought of many happy experiences she and her son had shared together in earlier years.
The woman also thought of the folly of war. Was winning a war worth the high cost in human lives. She had great hopes for her son in life -- perhaps he might be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a legislator. Now these hopes were dashed and could never be recovered.
"How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished."
-- Dessem
