CARTER'S ARMY: WILLIAM CARTER
1
Chapter 25 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
March 20th, 2004
It was a cold and damp day in Halisham England; the rain had
started sometime early in the morning, and the grey sky seemed to match the
feelings the day shared with the people clustered around the freshly-turned
earth. It wasn't a day for celebration; it was a day for mourning. Not to
mourn that which had been lost, but to mourn instead that which never was.
Time had done little to heal most wounds, and the two halves
of a shattered family stood on opposite sides of the simple stone. The rain
came down more steadily now. Unity through sorrow; for William Carter, it
was just another bitter regret of a past he could never reconcile.
There had never been a chance for that, and as the rain plastered
the hair to his head he stared down at the earth and wondered if there had
been any more that he could have done. But after ten years, there really had
been nothing. He had tried, and every time that hand had been extended it
had been slapped away.
He should have been bitter, but there was no room inside for
that. There was only the sadness of understanding why the man under that fresh
sod could never accept him for who he was. There was no room in the Major's
army for him.
Andrew stood beside him, a constant presence in his life; they
had their rough patches -- all relationships went through them -- but his
knight had stood beside him through the past ten years, sheltering and protecting
him, and showering him with the love he had never been able to get from his
family.
Ordinarily in a moment like that he would let Andrew comfort
him, draw strength from the rock in his life; but right there and then it
was the final time he would face the Major, and he had to do it standing alone.
Andrew, as always, respected his stubborn need to be independent.
His eyes travelled up to his sister, a vibrant young woman now
nearly fourteen, wearing a beautiful black dress. She looked at her mother
whose eyes narrowed at him. Some bitterness never died. But Lucy wasn't about
to let that poison her love for her brother, as she slipped from her mother's
side and went round to him.
He pulled her against him, staring down at the stone, feeling
her drawing strength from him. Two survivors of their own war, but there had
been casualties along the way; pride and confidence had fallen early in the
struggle. But there was no doubt now; they were both free.
Major David Carter had died a hero to his country, leading his
men into Basra to liberate it from a dictator's grasp. There was so much debate
over the right to do so, that people had over looked the individual acts of
heroism that brought the best out in people. The Major had died a hero, saving
his men from an ambush; fighting for another country to gain the freedoms
he had dedicated his life to protecting.
The irony wasn't lost on William Carter, his son. Even though
the stubborn old man would never have admitted it, those freedoms of equality
had had fought to bring to other people extended to his own family. In a way,
in death, he was the hero he had never been in life.
William finally turned away, as Andrew came forward to embrace
him, and the tears Will had steadfastly refused to cry finally came forth
at that point. Holding onto the two people that loved him unconditionally,
returning that love to them.
THE
END
