My Father’s Song
Drum roll, please
“Private, drum roll, please.” Private Allan Briggs stood proudly in his pristine uniform. He lifted his hand in anticipation of the first beat, but paused as if in some moral quandary.
“Sir, may I speak first?” Captain Thornton looked at the young lad with a disapproving eye. “Yes, Briggs, what is it?” The young private gathered his thoughts. “I’m not sure I can do this, Captain.”
Captain Thornton turned to the row of young soldiers waiting patiently with their rifles at the ready and let out a long sigh before turning back to Master Briggs. “We can do this without you, Briggs, but you know it’s customary.”
“Just give me a minute, sir. He keeps looking at me, and I can’t take it.”
The captain pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket. “Lieutenant, I want you to blindfold that stinking traitor and tell him to stop sniffling.”
The young soldier took the handkerchief from his captain. “Please, Captain, don’t do this in front of my son.”
Captain Thornton ignored the pleas of the frightened prisoner as Lieutenant Andrews placed the blindfold over his eyes.
“Private, drum roll, please.” There was a moment’s pause as Briggs tried to gather himself.
“Sir, what do I tell my mother?”
Captain Thornton inhaled deep through his nose. “You tell her the truth. That your father died a traitor to his country. You tell her when your brothers were dying for their country, your father hid like a coward. Now, drum roll, please private.”
Briggs took a deep sigh before the sound of his drum echoed through the air.
The firing squad aimed their rifles as an eerie silence fell on the yard.
“Ready, aim, fire!”
