The Uvalde Raider by Ben English (great books for teens TXT) 📕

The JG looked away from Micah for a moment, blinking rapidly several times. “Every one of you Marines took that feeling away from me today.” Once settled again, he turned back to the grunt NCO.

“But especially you, sergeant. Because you were the one who came for me. I won’t ever forget that.”

“For whatever I did, sir, you are welcome” replied Micah and the two men shook hands one last time.

“Okay, Corpsman, ready to hit the road,” announced the LTJG. The Marines at each corner of the stretcher stepped off as one in the direction of Firebase Razor. The corpsman walked closely alongside, holding the IV bottle above.

As the six men made their way up the trail, Eggers rolled partially over and looked back.

“I still say you have a really big mouth, sergeant” the A4 driver stated in a raised voice. He waved weakly with one hand.

Micah returned the wave and grinned. He picked up the M14, feeling the heartening surge of something really good filling him inside. The Marine sergeant savored it, as he knew that in war such feelings would not last long.

Templar’s attention shifted to Lieutenant Johnson and Chapo standing off to the side, in deep conversation. The new lieutenant had learned a good deal today, and was proving to be an eager pupil to his seasoned veterans like Corporal Gonzales. There are all manners of education, what is learned in the classroom as well as the hard lessons of life experience. One dealt by and large in theories in the way the world should work, the other in the facts of pragmatic realities. It was a wise man indeed who sought out the value in both.

Between the promising second lieutenant and his hard-bitten corporal a special bond was forming, a bond that few would understand and even fewer ever experience. Watching them helped Micah to more fully enjoy that uplifting feeling, and let his spirit lap up the sensation for all that it was worth.

Because the bad times would return, in full force and making up for the space gone missing. In less than three more weeks the two men now quietly talking, the young lieutenant and his corporal, would join those other good Marines who never made it back from the Da Krong alive.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The outcurved clouds hung low over the southwest Texas town of Uvalde, their slate gray color speaking of the possible chance of rain to come. Already a light mist drifted around in wafts and Micah, like all native sons of this region, silently welcomed the slightest hint of moisture.

It rained most of the time he spent in Germany, attending the funeral of Max Grephardt. Max had requested to be buried by the ruins of a small Lutheran church in a family plot, along the banks of a river called the Werra. It was explained to the Texan this immediate area had only recently re-emerged from under the iron fist of Communist control, and evidently there was an involved process to get the interment done at the site.

But the revered Luftwaffe fighter ace, holder of the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves, had possessed many friends in high places. They saw to it that his wishes were honored, as was the man himself. Max’s family mentioned to Micah this was the area where their father grew up and always wanted to return to. They said work was taking place to rebuild the old church into what it once was, as well as efforts to locate a suitable pastor to serve there. Micah well understood their innate need to do so, and why.

Max’s family members and many friends were grateful to Micah Templar, and for his traveling so far to pay his respects while so much was happening in his own life. Furthermore, hearing firsthand about some of what had occurred and how Max died meant a great deal to them. His personal knowledge and heartfelt grieving for their kinsman provided solace, and the final defining act proved a fitting eulogy for a man who remained true to who and what he was to the very end.

Micah saw it only as the very least he could do. Like Tio Zeke, Max Grephardt sacrificed himself and all his tomorrows for countless others who had no idea of what these two men had actually done. Nor in all likelihood would much be ever known of their other many heroisms, and just how much was really owed to both of them.

While in Germany, Micah was haunted regularly by the same questions he had asked himself before leaving home. Questions that not only defied any clear cut answers but also evaded any adequate explanations, or any erudite words of wisdom when queried about being saved only by the ultimate, personally witnessed sacrifice of another. More than one night found him staring at a wall well into the wee hours of the morning, wrestling mightily with what recently occurred at the Bar JA as well as what happened all those years ago along the Da Krong.

How can one ever hope to even begin to repay the memory of another for such a selfless act? For Micah the topic went far beyond that of a simple philosophical quandary, for it had been Max who deliberately stepped in front of those bullets meant for him. Much like after his final return from Vietnam, Micah Templar was now spending a good deal of time in his Bible, searching for those answers. They would not come easy and his quest would likely last for a long time to come.

And now he was back on his own soil for another funeral, in a private cemetery west of town overlooking the Nueces River. For this was the day they buried Ezekiel Templar, a native son who had gone out into the world and