I Remember Their Names

I’ve been going over things in my head the last few days, trying to push stress aside and find something to write about this month.  A lot of things have gone wrong and we’re in a tough place right now, so I went to some of my old writings.  I wrote this back in 2009 when Chris’ flashbacks were out of control.  I still remember the names.

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I’ve spent some days thinking about this, and trying to form my thoughts into words. It was prompted by a stupid thread on a message board where people callously discussed who’s fault it was that a 93 year old man had frozen to death in his home after his power was shut off.

He has a name.

His name was Marvin Schur and he was a US Army Medic who earned the Purple Heart in World War II. His nickname was “Mutts” and he saw six years of battle while serving his country. My country.

Soldiers have names. And in the name is power. I learned the names of four soldiers who gave their lives for this country last night.

Out of respect for my husband, I will not state them, most specifically because he doesn’t remember their names. He has blocked them from his mind.

This flashback was a long one. Two and a half hours long. We went rounds. He fell to the ground, hit his head, and ran. He laid on the ground and ran like he was being chased, the back of his legs pounding the floor. It continued for so long I thought he would pass out from exhaustion, but he finally stopped and I got him talking. I went through my usual questions.

Where are you? Iraq.

Who are you? Sergeant C.

Who am I? He paused. 

Who am I? That new medic. He said her name. And then he told me he’d been hit. He couldn’t feel his legs. It hurts. It burns.

Where are my men? he asked.

I lied.

I told him over and over they were fine.

He rattled off three names and I lied. They’re on the chopper being evac-ed. They’re ok. Yes, they are alive.

And then, he asked about a specific soldier. By name. He tried to get to him. Tried to save him. He was just a kid. They blamed him. They all blamed him. And then he ran. He ran and ran.

I will never forget their names. They are ingrained in my mind.

Power in a name.

Those soldiers are people. And they have names.

Power.

I know their names.