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They say a man, can see death. Feel death even. When the shrapnel came flying towards me, it was slow motion. I saw it all. Every little silver piece as it reflected on teh sun and looked like glitter confetti. Deadly glitter confetti.
Every second of my life flashed before my eyes as I felt the pieces slice through me. My body feeling like it was on fire as the pain radiated through me. My beautiful girl that I would never see again, the one I never was able to tell exactly how much she meant to me.
As the corpsman ran up beside me and evaluated my injuries, the grim look on his face said it all. Told me my wife would get a knock at the door from men in the navy dress uniform. That she’d have to sit at Arlington and be terrified as twenty-one shots were fired. The eerie and somber sound of Taps being played from the bugle would pierce her ears and burn into her memory.
“Lieutenant!” The corpsman yelled as my eyes fought to close. My body begging me to surrender to the pain. My last act on this earth was to reach into my pocket and pull out a letter, to ensure somebody saw it and made sure she got it.
“Just hang on,” he said as his hand grasped the blood stained paper.
Megan C. Smith
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