"Small Drops"

Rowan - Jari L. James
Date: 8/10/99
Category/Content: Story - Angst
Spoilers: None
Sequel: None
Ratings: G
Warnings: None
Summery: : "I will never leave thee not forsake thee." [Hebrews 13:5]
Author’s Notes: They aren't mine. I just get to look through their eyes every once in awhile. And they look back through mine. The title came from thoughts on another writing titled "Small Drops of Comfort" {author unknown right now. No ... it's not Jmas]. This piece was inspired by a real life experience.
Special Terminology: None
Disclaimer: As for the rest, Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

Note: This story is the private possession of the author and can not be copied or archived without her express permission. Downloaded for private use is considered acceptable.

Have you ever seen a man wander around at a military cemetery? Taking in the trees and the grass. Pausing to watch the wind embrace the big U.S. Flag flying overhead, causing it to swell and ripple in the breeze like a living thing. Just walking between the rows of markers with no particular end point in sight.

Until something catches his eye. Then he'll stop, take a step or two back and kneel down on the grass, resting his hand on an old bronze plaque that's green with age and neglect. He'll bow his head for a moment - quiet - as if he were in silent communion with the person who lay beneath the tough, green sod; then reach into his pocket for a ratty old pocket knife and a handkerchief and quietly begin to clean the marker. May take him 10 ... 15 ... 20 minutes or so until it suits him, but he'll stay with it… gently scraping away the green corrosion, gradually bringing bright light back to the metal.

Using the same knife, he'll carefully cut the sod away from the edges of the plaque, creating a crisp and sharp border… trimming the overhanging strands of grass until the fresh and vibrant green is no longer in control, but sits in it's rightful place as a living backdrop behind the plate of golden brown metal that marks a soldier's final resting place. At last satisfied with his handiwork, he'll stand and take a step or two back from the grave marker - wadding up the knife with the cloth and stuffing the both of them back in his pants pocket.

And when all is done and a sense of military order has been restored, he'll bring himself to attention and, with back straight and head held high, give crisp salute in honor of a fallen comrade, slowly drop his arm, turn and walk away. And as you watch his back moving off through the trees you know he's hearing 'Taps' and the crack of a gun salute echoing in the back of his mind.

He wasn't at the cemetery for any particular reason that day. He was just driving by, giving a friend a lift to the mechanic so that guy could pick up his own car and happened to notice it. He didn't stop to look for someone he knew. He stopped at the grave he did because he saw that the site required attention and it was part of his personal duty to remember the fallen. He gave duty and respect where such were due.

Of such things small drops of personal honor are made.

And today I've seen a side of Jack I've never seen before.

{the end}


Dedicated In Loving Memory of:
1Lt. Dorothy Boone Wood, US Navy, Pharmacist, WWII
      and
Corpsman 1st Class [and later 2Lt. MSC, Korea] James Leland Wood, US Navy,
[attached to US Marines] - Pacific Theater - WW II.

By their daughter:
MSG/1SG Jari Lynn James, US Army, Medical Corps, Desert Shield/Desert Storm

And for CWO William P. Milliner, US Army - listed /POW/MIA 6 MAR 71, Laos
   - and his family and friends:
"I will never leave thee not forsake thee." {Hebrews 13:5}

Your Brothers and Sisters will find you, William ... and bring you home.

My Lost Brother Operation Just Cause

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