Slipping Away

He was my college roommate. His father was a revered Command Sergeant Major and Harry was just an all around good Army officer. During our college days he taught me a great deal about military customs, gorilla tactics and how to handle a long bore rifle to hit targets up to 1,000 yards away. We spent countless hours, hunkered down behind a couple of sand bags coaching my breathing, feeling each heart beat and knowing exactly how to squeeze off the shot between heart beats and hit the mark. In a word, he was a great friend.

When my military career came to an abrupt halt, he was there, on the phone, encouraging me and telling me how it was the best thing that ever happened and I would look back and know he was right. When his career came to an equally abrupt halt, he refused to make excuses and reminded me he would also be better off. We were both lying to each other, but it didn’t matter because we were there to support each other. Over the years we kept in touch by email, telephone, and the occasional surprise card in the mail. While we never saw each other after college, the pictures and conversations kept us close and after a few painful divorces we got a little closer.

In 2007 he wrote to tell me about his father passing away and how painful it was to watch the grand old man go. It was Pancreatic cancer and he tore him up to be so helpless, yet he remained strong for the old SGM up to the very end. The next year, he found out that he too had the big C; exactly like his father with little chance of survival, still he kept fighting. Strangely he stopped writing and rarely returned my messages or answered my calls. He was a proud man and hated to trouble others with his problems. One trait that we both shared. In 2008 he called to congratulate me on my latest job and to let me know they were going to bisect the Pancreas and the odds of a full recovery were great! We both knew he was lying, but Harry always put his best foot forward.

I didn’t hear from him after that. His email address was disconnected as was his phone and I started to wonder where my old friend was. Then, thanks to the power of the internet I found his obituary. He died in 2009 of that dreaded disease and of all my old Infantry friends, he was the last living that I know of. So many passed on. Some due to their military service and many in spite of it. Apparently I was the last survivor of our tontine and the only prize is knowing I’m all that’s left.

At 56 I’m hardly old, but when you’re out of friends and few new ones on the horizon, life feels a bit empty. I certainly won’t give up but it just doesn’t have the luster it once did. Harry was one of a dying breed of soldier. The kind of man that cared more about his soldiers than he did himself. The kind of man that every father wants his son to grow up to be.

Rest In Peace
Maj. Harold I Santiago
United States Army
1954 - 2009