Patriot Guard

The night slowly turns to dawn as the sunrise crawls cautiously over the barren black path. Calm embraces the moment as a gentle breeze quietly ruffles the landscape. The air is crisp and chases the warmth from the skin. Off in the distance a rumbling can be heard, stirring both creature and man alike. All eyes face the East in preparation of the suns warming embrace. And yet the rumbling grows ever louder and breaks the eerie silence. And from the East a glint of light breaks the horizon. Dancing in unison with the sunlight as it shatters the darkness. And then another glint flickers along the horizon. All too soon the horizon is alive with flashes as the rumble gains strength. And just as quickly the flashes cease and they form a looming shadow cascading through the countryside.

The shadow gains momentum as it descends upon the unknowing people. The rumbling transforms into a dull roar as the shadowy beast advances. The wind carries an ominous odor, familiar yet strange. All eyes are still affixed upon the sun, mesmerized by the shadowy beast emerging from the horizon and the sun devours the crisp air. Nervously they shuffle in place frozen by indecisiveness.

The sun and the shadowy beast close the distance rapidly. Finally from the shadows an image appears, bringing with it a soothing calm for the people. For in this image waves gallantly the colors of red, white and blue. As the beast’s image shatters into fragments, the ten riders began their formation. The ominous smell is quickly recognized as a mix of leather and fuel. The senses are alive and working spontaneously to process all the information. The rumbling increases as these brave guardians of the patriotic brethren thunder past on steel horses. King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table returning triumphant from battle and weary from the ride maintain formation until their ceremonious journey pauses. From this day forward a bond has been forged. Acknowledgement of this bond is unspoken, exchanged only by a hand shake and the familiar gaze within their eyes. A sense of honor and respect envelops the crowd, intensified by each handshake. And when the honor, respect and gratitude is validated, the guardians climb upon their steel horses. As the guardians thunder into the distance escorting their new brethren, the rumble turns into a ceremonious cannonade. The final journey home of our patriotic brethren will be forever engrained within the memories of both fellowships.

From this day to the ending of the world we in it shall be remembered. We lucky few, we band of brothers. For he who today rides by my side and stands by these courageous brethren with me, shall be my brother. And he who rides with foot pegs down, shall forever be embraced by our fallen heroes, patriotic and guardian alike. Let no man paint abstract lectures of this bond nor cast stones upon glass houses. And with this, no man shall break the bond between the guardians and the patriotic brethren.