Free Letters from War by Mark Schultz

guys were of a different fabric and caliber.
    This was the Turning Blue ceremony for them, the day before they officially graduated.
    It was a simple ceremony, yet the significance could not be fully weighed or articulated by James, his mother, or his sister.
    At the end of the ceremony, loved ones were given the opportunity to attach a blue infantry cord to their class A uniforms.
    James knew who would have done it had he been there.
    But someone else would do it. Someone just as strong and just as proud.
    The blue cord distinguished the infantrymen from therest of the army and symbolized entry into the brotherhood of infantrymen. This blue cord linked all of them to every infantryman who ever served and would ever serve.
    His mother came flanked by Emily and Britt to attach the blue braid to the right lapel so that it encircled his shoulder.
    Proud tears filled her eyes.
    â€œWhere did my boy go?” she asked him.
    He smiled at her but didn’t reply. He helped her attach the cord, bending his knees so she could easily do it. After it was on, they posed for several pictures, then she gave him a big hug.
    â€œHe’s smiling down on you, James,” she whispered in his ear.
    He almost let the tears come, but he fought them off.
    A sergeant came up to congratulate James. He smiled at his mom, charming her with an air of civility James hadn’t seen for fourteen weeks.
    â€œThey were good boys,” the sergeant said. “When they get home, they’ll know how to clean their rooms and make their beds.”

    It was strange to have forgotten the simplicities of life. Going out to dinner and laughing about familiar incidents and people. The evening gave James the luxuryof being with Britt and his mom and sister. Graduation would be tomorrow.
    The small things mattered in a big way. He could say that now after getting through this first part and seeing the world in a new light. Small things like eating at Red Lobster and scarfing down six warm cheddar biscuits before his steak and lobster came. Small things like sitting next to Britt in the booth and feeling her body always touching his, even when they got their food. Small things like joking with Emily about the guy she was dating and still finding a way to push all her buttons.
    His sides hurt from laughing and his mouth was sore from smiling.
    It was nice to get a little break and celebrate.
    After saying good-bye to Britt and Emily, Beth followed him back away from the car so she could talk with him. It was colder and windy and her light jacket didn’t seem warm enough.
    â€œYou better get back in the car,” he said.
    â€œI will. I just need to say something.”
    â€œOh, no. Here it comes.”
    â€œStop,” she said playfully. “I just want you to know something. And I could wait but I know better than to wait on things like this. You should say them in the moment. I learned that the hard way when it came to your father.”
    He stood waiting for his mother to continue. He could see the tears in her eyes even though it was dark out and the faint light from the streetlamp was the only thing that allowed them to see.
    She continued. “I want you to know how proud I am to see you in that uniform. Not because your father was in that uniform. That delights me and I know it delights your father too. But I want you to know something Richard once told me with unabashed pride. He said that only about one percent of the U.S. population ever gets to wear the military uniform. That means you are in that rare one percent and you will always be, whatever happens from this day forward.”
    James wasn’t sure what to say, so he answered with a nod.
    â€œYou’re still my baby and you always will be, you understand? That no matter
what
uniform you’re wearing, you’re my little boy. So that means you need to take care of yourself, understand that? You need to come home safe.”
    â€œOf course.”
    She gave