Remember how they walked here, once – their presence as vivid as yours or mine – fodder for their leaders’ spoils, for the glory of the nation, for the war that would end wars.
There were jokes only they knew – regaled during long hours in the trenches – secrets shared and allegiances sworn.
The sole survivor recalled them, many years later, in his broken-down home with paint peeling from the walls and battered picture frames stacked on shelves.
A response to the freewrite prompt a few good men.