It's Not A Race

Think back to your first few events. When your Captain got the command to close on the foe, did he let you and your comrades break formation and go in at the double-quick, losing elbow contact? No matter how controlled the juggernaut sometimes esprit and chances of carrying the heights gets the best of an attack. Let's face it; we've all "broken western" a time or two, and so did our honorable ancestors, but often at the risk of losing cohesiveness and breaking the irresistable wave. It was that martial spirit, even parade ground marching that so un-nerved and intimidated our foes, in past events and in the real war we seek to re-create.

Les knows this battle he is in, is not a race. He knows he cannot afford to break step and get too far ahead of his pards, for at such moments it is in his best interests to keep comrades to his left and right, watching and assisting his every move. Right now Les has all kinds of comrades and pards, from various walks of life. Some are nine-to-five workers, some are businessmen, some are educators, some are doctors, nurses and medical specialists. They (we) are all there in the ranks with him. trying to provide the elbow contact to assure him (as he assures us also) that he is not alone in this epic struggle.

Many attacks, even the most carefully designed ones, fail because someone becomes impetuous and surges ahead, confident of victory, regardless of the well-drilled tactics that are proven for success. Les' doctors and nurses are the most prudent of comrades right now. They know that there is nothing he would rather do than go home, to rest prior to his pending surgery. Yet because of recent setbacks, including a compromised immune system, it is best to have him in the hospital for awhile, rather than let him surge homeward. As I have written in previous entries, cancer is a living, consuming beast that has a ravenous appetite. Les will tell us all about his "hand-to-hand" combat with this beast, as soon as he is able to rejoin us, but for now he realizes that he is where he needs to be - in ranks, with all of his pards, including those who now confine him for his own good.

We spoke for about ten minutes yesterday, before his strength began to wane. His voice was so strong and confident that I told him how impressed I was, with his good sound and positive talk. He will tell you this is not a race. He will tell you he is winning, despite the setbacks. He will tell you he is not ready to give in to this foe. He will tell you he is glad you are in his life. He will tell you he is going to visit your campfire and drink alot of coffee with you and his other pards, and when it is all in the rear view mirror, he will tell you how lucky he is to have you as his comrade and that if he can do it, you can too.

Now that he is in the hospital, finished with his required radiation and chemotherapy, he is no longer in the Caring House as he was before, as an out-patient. You can write him at Duke University Hospital, Room 9306, 2301 Erwin Road, Durham, North Carolina 27710. He can also be reached by phone at (540) 366-2828. If he is feeling well enough to answer you, he will. Otherwise, leave him a message, as all those he has received have warmed his heart and lifted his spirits.

Remember, it's not a race that wins a battle; it is instead, a strong relentless advance. There's first call. Take arms!! Fall in!! In each rank, count! Twos! Attention, Company. Shoulder, Arms! Forward, March!

Steady now.