The Last Vietnam Veteran

The Better Angel of Our Nature said: "Damn, he's old."
The slightly-less Better Angel said:"Well, you don't get to be the last of anything without getting old."
"When did the previous one die?"
"A year or so back, as I recall."
"Ours or theirs?"
"Theirs. Some guy named Nguyen; don't know his given name."
"And this one?"
"Fitzgerald, Brian."
"Grunt?"
"Oh, how historic of you. Look that up, did you?"
"Yes. Just doing my research."
"Well, no, as it turns out. He was a Marine."
"A 'jarhead', they were called. Seems that was a slang term, according to my research, "used by sailors as early as World War Two to refer to members of the Marine Corps, drawing the term from the resemblance of the Marine dress blues uniform, with its high collar, to a Mason jar, which at the time was made from blue glass". Still not sure why the were called 'Mason' jars; they seem to have had no connection with the fraternal organization.
"Wonk."
"What?"
"Look it up."
"I will..." The slightly-less Better Angel does a quick search. "Oh." He nods. "Yes, and proud of it." He shrugs. "I suppose it would be superfluous to mention that they were also known as Leathernecks, the nickname going back to the leather stock or neckpiece, which was part of the Marine Corps uniform from 1775 to 1875. The leather collar was designed to protect the jugular vein from saber slashes, and also insured that Marines kept their heads erect and maintained military bearing. Although no longer used, it is commemorated by the standing collar on the dress blue and dress white uniform. They were also known as Devil Dogs; in the First World War, back in 1918, the Germans referred to Marines as Teufelhunden, meaning 'fierce fighting dogs of legendary origin'."
"How erudite."
"Thank you."
"I was being sarcastic."
The slightly-less Better Angel shrugged, or would have, if he had shoulders. "I know. I was ignoring it."
"When was Mister Fitzgerald born?"
"Let me see... It says 1948 here."
"He's a hundred years old today."
"It's his birthday, then?"
"Yes."
"How nice."
"I guess he would want us to wish him a happy birthday."
The slightly-less Better Angel nodded, or would have, if he had a head. "Too bad he can't see or hear us."
"Indeed. How many are we up to now?"
"How many what?"
"Wars." The Better Angel of Our Nature sighed. "They're what he remembers most, it seems, from his youth. Vietnam, I think, was his war."
"Oh, a dozen or so, I should think, since then."
"Amazing."
"True. And yet we haven't succeeded in blowing up the world."
"Yet is the operative word."
"So, what are we to do with him?"
"Our orders are to observe and record, nothing more."
"Boring..."
"True, but that's the choice we made."
"Boring, like I said."
"What would you have us do? Interfere?"
"Why not? That, at least, wouldn't be boring."
"No, but it would exceed our charter."
"And what if we did? Who would care?"
The Better Angel of Our Nature shook what would be his head, if he'd had one. "You weren't around for the last one who decided he should be running things, were you?"
"No. What happened?"
The Better Angel of Our Nature would've shuddered, if he'd had a body. "Let's just say he still wishes he hadn't..."
"Really? What happened?"
"Imagine the worst possible thing that could happen to you..." The Better Angel of Our Nature again shook what would've been his head. "Now imagine it happening, only a thousand times worse, forever..."
"Ugh."
"Yeah, ugh. Times a thousand. Forever."
"Double ugh."
"Yeah."
"So, I guess we're not interfering..."
"No, we're not."
"But we could sing, I suppose..."
Together, they sang, even though he couldn't hear them: "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Brian, happy birthday to you!"


This story is fiction; any similarities to the real Brian Fitzgerald, a former Marine for whom the author once had the privilege of working, is purely a coincidence.
The "better angels of our nature" is, for the history-impaired, from Abraham Lincoln's first Inaugural Address...