(Author's note: This is a repost of a story I wrote under the name Tearsofsorrow2, the story has been graciously edited by HopelesslyAddicted and I thank her for her diligence. When you find any stylistic concerns know that they are owned by the author and he cherishes them. Please comment loudly, can't improve if I don't see where. The story is based on the song of the same name by Brad Paisley. I apologize if it brings a tear to your eye, I did to mine.)
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To those who come after me, I am now relating this story of a time when things were supposed to be simple. Love of a woman, God watching over us, mom, and apple pie. However, things are never as simple as they appear and you can never take anything for granted, especially the love of a woman.
I met Ben Reid when we were in Boot Camp in the spring of 1917. President Wilson had just announced that we were at war with the Central Powers. I had enlisted at the tender age of 20; Ben was 19 at the time. The island was tough, they grinded you into a Marine or they broke you. Because Ben and I were a little older than the rest of the recruits, we gained our stripes very early on. The Corps was small in those days and leadership was at a premium.
After eight weeks of basic, we were finally given our first leave, and Ben and I headed to his hometown of Fayetteville. Ben was sweet on a girl he had known all his life. Sarah Wills was a beautiful girl, and I could see right away that Ben had eyes for no one else. Sarah seemed to look at him the same way, and I could hear wedding bells every time they were together. That is how this tragedy all started.
We returned to the island for advanced training, and then were informed we would be shipping out for France and the war. We had one last week before we had to leave. Ben and I return to his hometown, and he married Sarah before we went off to France.
We reached France in August of that year, that bloody year. War is war and I have no words to describe it. Officer casualties were high and in little time, I found myself with a field promotion to Lieutenant with Ben as my platoon sergeant. Heroism seemed to come natural to Ben. On the night of Sept 23, while on a patrol in the wooded area before the frontlines our company came under fire from machinegun nests. Several men were hit including Ben. All was hell and confusion and you could not think straight due to the noise and the screaming of dying men. But not Ben, though wounded, he managed to work his way to within throwing distance of two of the nests. Moments later all was silent, Ben had used grenades to take out both of the machineguns. He would receive the Silver Star for his actions that night.
Not a day went by that Ben did not write to Sarah, professing his love and devotion. She would return his letters and as was customary in our company, Ben would read aloud to the men what his wife had to say. There was never a dry eye when Ben was finished. As time passed though the letters from Sarah became less frequent, we consider it a sign of the times and got back to fighting the war. However, the high times were always when Ben would read a letter aloud to the men. After awhile I came to realize that my platoon wasn't really mine but Ben's. Oh, I gave the orders and the men followed Ben in the carrying out of those orders. You would think that I would grow to resent the situation but I didn't. I was grateful that some of the burden of command was lifted off my shoulders and to tell you the truth I don't believe any of us would have returned home if it wasn't for Ben.
Christmas 1917 saw us in Belleau Wood. We had been in the thick of it for three months with no end in sight. A strange thing happened that Christmas that if I hadn't been there I wouldn't believe it if someone told me the tail. It was Christmas Eve and we were in our trench. There was a truce on so that the men could celebrate without the fear of dying on Christmas day. I can remember that the wind was from the east as Ben and I were talking about what we would do when the war ended.
"I'm going home to Sarah and start a family, what are you going to do John?" asked Ben.
"I have decided to re-enlist and go to officer training school; I'm going to stay in the Corps if they'll have me."
Ben just looked at me for the longest time. "I would have thought that after all the hell we've been through, the pain, the death, and the fear, that you would have had enough of the Corps."
It was at that moment that I realize that Ben was just like everyone else. I have to tell you I have never felt more alive than when I am in combat. I was terrified the whole time, but alive. I just didn't think that Ben ever felt that way. Strange, and then it happened, the wind had picked up and I could hear singing coming from the German lines. The Germans were singing Silent Night. I stood up in the trench and looked out over no-man's-land. I couldn't see a single German soldier. Then there was the calm, and the men in our trench started to sing along. Two groups of men locked in a life and death struggle were singing about a baby born centuries earlier. There is a God. The war resumed that night at the stroke of midnight and we were never to hear that calm again.
1917 turned into 1918 and we made the big pushes that would see an end to the war. Ben was still being Ben. Heroism had become second nature to him. I followed his example as best I could but he was a legend by now. Our platoon got all the rough assignments and we never failed to come through. I ordered and Ben led, it was the order of things and it kept us alive.
The last bit of heroism would happen on November 3 of 1918. The battalion was pinned down by sniper fire and the enemy artillery was zeroing in. The forward observation post signaled that there was a break in the landline and they could not reach the artillery to do counter battery fire. Major Halle had sent three runners with the spool of wire to reconnect the observation post's landline. None had made it more than a few yards before the snipers got them. Ben looked at me.
