We pinched cigarettes into extinction, between trembling fingers, and placed them safely in our pockets for later. Others took last lingering draws on warm pipes before returning them to pouches or pockets. We moved forward in silent lines, our horses stumbling on broken ground and hidden wire.
He exhorted us, in a whisper – Be brave, men! Be brave! Words of love and courage.
A walk, a slow jog, then a trot. Our mounts take hold and begin to canter, their heads lower and stiffen as they move; we lean forward and our cheeks brush against their great necks.
Our line begins to break, lances lowered, pointing to the heart of the coming storm. We are silent; we hear nothing, only a single voice in front, calling us, again and again, louder and louder, “Be brave! Be brave!”
Then, he falls, and we ride into the storm.
Anon.
May 10th, 2018, at 6:30 am he fell, with quiet but weary dignity.
On that last night, we sat together, in the dark, silently waiting for the dawn to break. As we waited He showed me the Light and taught me the true meaning of Compassion.
In another age, he would have lain on a great Long Ship and all the treasures of the world would have been placed at his feet. Instead, he left the treasures behind – freely given and of incalculable value.
He was a Lion, a mighty and Noble Warrior, and like all the fallen he takes a place in the great feasting hall amongst the honoured.
There may yet be storms and battles, but, because of him, I walk in the Light.
He was, and will always be, my friend.
Times more than once, all ways about the world,
Have I clasped hands; waved sorrowful good-bye;
Watched far cliffs fading, till by sea-wake swirled
To mingle bluely with a landless sky:
Then – even as the sea-drowned cliffs behind –
Felt sorrow drowning into memory;
And heard, in every thrill of every wind,
New voices welcoming across the sea.
Frankau