In 1956, I was nine years old. I remember hearing
on the news that the last surviving soldier of the
Civil War had passed away. They mentioned that
he was one hundred and six years old. I was still
alive, and would move on.
Later in life, I heard something about the last
soldier who fought during World War One had
died. That conflict was years before my time.
I managed to keep on moving along. I still had
some good years ahead of me.
As an adult, I was made aware that survivors of
World War Two were now in their late nineties,
and veterans like my dad and Uncle Ray were
fading away. And still, I am here.
Now that I am older, I see other elderly who
like me served during the War in Vietnam. Now
I can relate and say that I am one of them. Those
who lived through those times are now dying
off left and right.
So many eras, epochs and times pass before
our eyes. My how time flies.
In the not to distant future, along with my
brothers and sisters in arms, we too shall be
relegated to the graveyards of history.
Funny how we tend to remember the passing
of time in relation to war. No one seems to think
of the first one to die in battle, but we, those left
standing, tend to consider our own mortality
based on the last one to go.
I suppose in war and in peace, the record books
are never closed until the last survivor dies. Seems
that new memorials to those lost in the battle of
time arise every passing day.
-30-
Chris Hanch 8-25-2020
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