"I can't believe he's gone..." Private Engle said to himself quietly as he placed his fallen comrade's helmet onto a crude, but carefully constructed, cross he had stuck in the ground. The helmet swiveled for a moment, then came to a stop once Engle put his hand on it. Engle and his comrade had joined BioLabs after high school to better their chances at a good education-- at least, that was the plan. Engle lowered his head and clenched his free hand into a fist. His helmet lights illuminated the dark face of the helmet that once covered the face of his best friend; his blood brother. The cold, wet helmet stared blankly back at Engle. There was no coy laughter behind it or any snide comments to make him laugh-- not this time. The empty eyes of the helmet pierced Engle's soul. Hot tears rolled down Engle's cheeks as he closed his eyes and tried to accept the fact that his best friend was gone.
"Liquid entering the helmet chamber." Engle's armor alerted him as it sensed the salty tears on his skin. He cursed under his breath and shook his head. Footsteps in mud approached Engle.
"You knew him well, it seems." A woman's voice said. Engle turned to see a sergeant behind him: Sergeant Herrera, who accompanied the troop to their current location.
"Yes, ma'am, I did." He replied, "Very well."
"Take the time you need." The sergeant said reassuringly, "Evac isn't coming for a while." Engle nodded slightly in response.
"He's not really gone, you know." Sergeant Herrera began, stepping toward Engle. She opened her hand and lifted it, palm facing upward. "He won't leave your side until you're home safe."
"How can you be so sure? So calm?" Engle interjected. Sergeant Herrera smiled to herself and chuckled softly, knowing her fair share of loss. She saw many good men and women fall on the battlefront. Some were preventable, some were not. Every loss took its toll on her, but as a leader, she had to understand ways to keep her cool.
"You know that feeling after you've been crying for a while?" she continued, "Once the tears have stopped and you feel that you have the courage to face your next hurdle?" Herrera's voice cracked only momentarily, "You've picked up the pieces and wipe your face. You seem to have pulled the courage to go on out of thin air. Well, that's them. That's them comforting you. It's them placing a hand upon your shoulder to tell you that everything is going to be alright. A silent companion who is there to make sure you can continue on. I know it's tough right now, and it won't get any easier. But knowing that they are still here, just in a different way, makes coming to terms with it a bit less daunting."
Sergeant Herrera stood next to Engle and clasped her hands behind her back. Engle was silent for a while, remembering the last moments he had with his fallen comrade. More tears rolled down his cheeks. As the rain poured down, he felt a hand upon his shoulder. Instinctively, he grasped for it, but found nothing in his hand but his own shoulder armor. Herrera grinned a soft grin under her red helmet. If she really tried, she could see a slight silhouette of someone in the rain before her.
"You're right." she said, "You must've been quite close."
Remember the fallen. They may not be with us anymore, but as long as we remember them and carry on the good memories we have of them, they are never truly gone or forgotten. They are silent guardians making sure that we have the strength and courage to carry on. For every strong person, there is at least one hand that is supporting them, quiet and unseen, but there nonetheless.