Silent Strength

For thirty years, I believed my grandfather was a coward. He never spoke about the war.

When other veterans marched in parades, he stayed home. I’d ask, and he’d just stare

into the distance. I decided he had nothing to be proud of. He died last week.

My task was to clean out his attic. It was filled with junk. In a dusty crate,

I found a smaller box. It was heavy. I opened it, expecting old tools.

Instead, I found medals. A Purple Heart. A Bronze Star. Beneath them lay

a brittle, yellowed newspaper clipping. The headline read: “Local Soldier’s

Brave Stand Saves Platoon, Suffers Capture.” The article detailed his heroism,