We've had diaries here before asking you what's your fucking problem.
We've had diaries here before asking you about your happiest stories.
Both of these types of diaries are wonderful things and I hope they continue for a long time.
I want to try a little something different though...what stirs you deepest passions? What thing or activity touches that deep nerve inside of you? What subject can you talk literally for hours on end about? And why? What sparked it inside you?
My story follows after the jump...read it and then spill your guts.
I mentioned on one of Carnacki's "Got a Happy Story?" threads about what one of my fondest memories were...leaning against my car at twilight and looking out over the fields of Pickett's Charge as the sun sank slowly behind Seminary Ridge as Led Zepplein's "Battle of Evermore" played softly on the car stereo
I shall now, as best I can, try to re-create those thoughts...
Queen of light took her bow
And then she turned to go,
The prince of peace embraced the gloom
And walked the night alone.
Tens of thousands of men....so far from home....many younger than you...fighting for country...for home...for belief...how was it possible?...
Oh, dance in the dark of night,
Sing to the morning light.
Could you do it? Could you force yourself to endure the extremes of heat, cold and thirst. Could you march 25 miles a day? Could you march 20 miles and then go into a three hour battle without a canteen? Could you stand it as shells were blowing up all around you, pulverizing your dearest friends into a bloody pulp?...how did they?....where did that drive come from?...
The dark lord rides in force tonight
And time will tell us all.
Oh, throw down your plow and hoe,
Rest not to lock your homes.
What do you men have to teach us? Have we betrayed your sacrifice? Have we dishonored your memory? I feel as though you are my brothers...I am not worthy to inherit the land you bled for...
Side by side we wait the might
Of the darkest of them all.
I hear the horses' thunder
Down in the valley blow,
I'm waiting for the angels of avalon,
Waiting for the eastern glow.
If I close my eyes...I can almost feel as if I'm there....I hear you all, speaking to me through the tunnel of the decades...My God, I've never felt like this...the shiver in my spine...the goosebumps on my skin...you hear me too, don't you?
The apples of the valley hold,
The seas of happiness,
The ground is rich from tender care,
Repay, do not forget, no, no.
I cannot repay...but I will not forget...someone has to keep your memory alive...someone has to make sure others know...it shall be me if it will be no one else...I will remember. My life is yours...
Oh,-------dance in the dark of night,
Sing to the morning light.
The apples turn to brown and black, the tyrant's face is red.
Oh the war is common cry, pick up you swords and fly.
The sky is filled with good and bad
That mortals never know.
It all happened right here, under my feet...I can't wrap my mind around that...what did this ground look like?...the blood, the entrails, the bodies....right in front me, men were shot and stabbed and bled to death, writhing in agony, or blown to pieces by artillery...just yards ahead of you, this was turned into a charnel house....so peacful now...
Oh, well, the night is long, the beads of time pass slow,
Tired eyes on the sunrise, waiting for the eastern glow.
These people...they have no idea....they read the words, they come, but they do not really understand...this is as close to the sacred as I believe in...
The pain of war cannot exceed
The woe of aftermath,
The drums will shake the castle wall,
The ring wraiths ride in black, ride on.
Sing as you raise your bow,
Shoot straighter than before.
No comfort has the fire at night
That lights the face so cold.
Oh dance in the dark of night,
Sing to the mornin' light.
What about at night after the fighting ended?....the moaning, the screaming, the pleading from thousands of broken men...lying in the dark with no friends...in unimaginable, unendurable agony, burning with thirst...terrified...wanting to live, to see their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, wives, sweethearts, children...what did their families go through?...
The magic runes are writ in gold
To bring the balance back, bring it back.
At last the sun is shining, the clouds of blue roll by,
With flames from the dragon of darkness
The sunlight blinds his eyes.
Bring it back...bring it back...