The picture was getting a bit faded and a lot wrinkled.  The edges were beginning to tear and the face was covered with dirty fingerprints.  Still Kid did as he had done before every battle.  Pulling the picture from his pocket he sat in quiet contemplation, remembering better times. She hadn’t wanted him to go but he’d refused to consider the alternative.  They’d had plans to marry but the war—defending what he felt he had to defend—came first.  He’d promised her he’d come back safe and sound and then they could start a life together. But, in her anger, she’d stopped listening to his justifications.  She’d turned away from him then and never looked back—at least not that he saw.   The others had tried to stop him too.  Even Teaspoon had challenged his need to go home and fight.  Nothing no good ever came from war, the older man had reminded him.  Look at everything he was going to lose before he even started. Jimmy had argued even harder, an argument that had ended abruptly when he’d finally shouted that Jimmy should be happy he was leaving.  After all, that would leave an opening for Jimmy to get close to Lou.  Buck had managed to stop Jimmy from punching Kid in the face—just barely. His own anger had built to the point where he’d finally just packed up his gear and left without saying goodbye to anyone.  He didn’t care if they worried about him.  He didn’t care if she worried about him—not then. It wasn’t until he’d traveled for a couple of days that he’d begun to regret his hasty action.  He’d briefly considered going back, then realized it would be admitting something he didn’t want to admit.  He couldn’t confess that he wasn’t really sure if he was doing the right thing.  His stubborn pride wouldn’t let him. So he’d gone on.  He’d signed up with the first unit he’d come across from his home state of Virginia.  Over the past months, he’d proven himself an able soldier and had received two battlefield promotions.  As a sergeant he was now in charge of a squadron of men—some older than he was—who had received repeated commendations for bravery under fire. Sometimes he wondered if the why of what he did was really bravery or a death wish.  Each time he looked at Lou’s smiling face, he wondered if she would still be there when and if he returned.   He’d tried to write her a letter, but it had come back unopened.  He’d tried writing Teaspoon and Rachel to see if Lou was okay, but the letters had been returned as “undeliverable.”  Finally the time had come when he’d realized all he’d lost and had lost himself in the war.  He had become more and more reckless, charging into battle with a cry that was more anguish than determination. The picture had been in his saddlebag.  He’d found it months after he’d joined the regiment and had stood staring at it for a long time wondering how it had gotten there.  It was a picture Lou had insisted they have taken of the two of them while she was all dressed up in her best “girl” finery.  She’d given him the picture a few months before he’d made his decision to go back East. Finding the picture had had two very different effects on Kid.  The first was a feeling of immense loss.  Everything he’d had was gone.  The picture reminded him of what could have been and how he’d destroyed what might have been with his own stubborn belief that no one had the right to tell him how to think. But right beside that sense of loss was a glimmer of hope.  If he could survive this war, he could go back to Rock Creek and somehow he’d find Lou and beg her forgiveness.  She loved him; he knew that.  And he loved her; he was certain of that.  If there was any hope that they could regain what they once had, by golly he was going to be alive and trying. The squad was still winning commendations but now their bravery was complimented by a well thought out plan.  A plan usually conceived during the time that Kid sat staring at the picture in his hand. “That’s a right pretty lady, Sarge.” Kid looked up to see Mitchell—his newest recruit.  The others in the squad knew not to bother the Sarge when he was communing with the picture but apparently no one had told the lanky youngster. “Yes, she is—was,” Kid admitted.   Sighing softly he put the picture back in his pocket and turned to the task at hand. “Who is she?” Mitchell asked. “Just someone I used to know,” Kid replied.  “Are you ready to go?” ~~~~ Just Someone I Used To Know Written by Jack Clement Sung by The Statler Brothers on their album Pictures Of Moments To Remember There's a picture that I carry One we made some time ago When they ask who's in the picture with me I say just someone I used to know. Just a girl I used to spend some time with Just a flame from long ago I don't tell them of the nights I've cried without you I say just someone I used to know. --- Instrumental --- Just a girl I used to run around with Just a spark that's lost its glow I don't tell them how lost I am without you I say just someone I used to know. I say just someone I used to know. I say just someone I used to know... Email Cathy HOME