The train unexpectedly stopped in rural South Carolina, the middle of nowhere. It was 1967 and we were on summer vacation. A sign wasn’t evident, although the stop must have had a name. Uniformed soldiers boarded the train and unloaded three flag-draped coffins. Each held, we learned, a young man from this middle-of-nowhere place, sent to fight in a faraway jungle. An Army child, I’d seen teenagers in basic training, but not bodies returning home. I never imagined they were deposited on unknown railway platforms. After five minutes, the train moved on. I don’t know how they got home.
Clorisa Phillips is a historian and retired executive, with essays in The Christian Science Monitor, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, AARP’s The Ethel, The New York Times, and elsewhere. linktr.ee/clophillips linkedin.com/in/clorisa-phillips-a00252116/ clophillips.com