Remembering Middle Ground

My visit to the moving wall got me remembering the three platoon leaders and the story their "remembered presence" helped to create. When I completed the draft of the Christmas Truce, I sent it to my dad to review. His first bit of feedback, “I don’t understand why John shows up.” He didn’t think it made sense for three platoon leaders from Vietnam to guide Sophy to No Man’s Land during the WWI Christmas Truce. I told him John’s appearance surprised me too.

When I write, I listen for the words. As the words gather, a story unfolds. If it doesn’t work, I delete the words. When John arrived in my writer’s awareness, I questioned his appearance because John's character died in RESURGAM. So I wondered why would he appear now? The character's response, “I live because of you.”

An unexpected idea had arrived and I said yes to the words. Out of all the possible places in time and space, they stood in No Man's Land, the place that separated opposing forces. During the Christmas Truce, No Man's Land transformed into middle ground, the place to unite. Due to the ceasefire, both forces crossed boundaries to gather their dead comrades and then bury them. Writing the draft of this scene was challenging. The only thing Sophy had to do was watch as she stood by the three platoon leaders. As I cycled through the drafts, the smells, sights, sounds and sensory perceptions gained depth and intensity. It was too much for Sophy as she watched a living soldier gather the remains of his buddy, now a corpse that had spent too much time in No Man’s Land. Sophy wanted to leave. The platoon leaders remained resolute, pillars of strength, watching with empathetic eyes and compassionate hearts. There was a moment when I realized, They had been there. John, Gary and Frank - each one had the experience: He had been a living soldier who had gathered up the body a fallen comrade. He had been the fallen comrade that was killed in action. His broken body had been carried by his buddies. The three platoon leaders imparted a complete knowing of life and death. It was a quicksilver flash of understanding authentic presence.

That moment was enough to break through a barrier and provide a gentle spark of light, a recognition of genuine compassion. They took me to this place to remember life and death. World War I wasn’t their war and it wasn’t my war either. It was a past war and not so immediate. Each time I cycled through another draft, I gained a little more courage to see what they wanted me to see. It is the value of presence - to be there. Authentic presence opens up the wholeness of Life.