The Lost Sergeant

Everyone in Grout County knew stories of ‘The Lost Sergeant,’ a drunken soldier, who roams the desert on a stolen horse. He rides, according to witnesses, in circles across the county. His horse is old, the saddle withered, matching the similar state of the Sergeant’s uniform, still adorned with, now rusted, medals. Those who pass him certainly live to tell the tale. He carries a pistol with seemingly unlimited bullets but has never hit a passerby. He just shoots at them wildly and never, not even by a hair, does he ever hit anyone. Some speculate he’s just trying to scare them off. Some say he’s blind. The skeptics say it’s just a story to keep kids from wandering off. ‘The Lost Sergeant will shoot at you if you run away.’ But those who’ve said they’ve seen him say he’s unforgettable. Although he and the steed he rides on seem old, they move more gracefully than a butterfly in a meadow. Though the children have heard of the The Lost Sergeant, none know the reality and how he came to roam the desert, lost and alone.

~

It was October 18th, and the people of Trentville were gathering in the town square to celebrate the day their two towns became one. Everyone was preparing to honor Gregory Trent on the 10th anniversary of unification. Each year they hold a big celebration in the town square. There’s singing and dancing and all the children dress up as Gregory Trent, also known as The Masked Soldier. He was a private in the war between the two towns, Grasshopper and Faudville, so most kids wear his private’s uniform, a recreation of the one he wore on the day of the final battle. But some dress up as him as he is now, a sergeant. Gregory was a generic, young and energetic soldier and all he wanted was the war to end. All he wanted was legacy, a purpose. So one day in the heat of battle he dragged a wooden crate between the opposing sides and climbed on to it, pulling up his mask to protect him from the fumes. He pulled out his gun and shot it on the sharp edge of a fallen soldiers sword. The bullet split shooting in opposite directions, hitting both of the side’s generals in the legs making them collapse simultaneously. No one knew if it was skill, luck or a magical power. Either way, the fighting immediately stopped as Gregory readied himself, then he gave a rosing speech that inspired both sides the drop their weapons and unite as one people. The speech, being so vague and filled with clichés upon clichés, made Gregory so surprised that it worked, he ran back to house. Later that day some of his soldier buddies found him and told him that he was a hero and that their new united town would be named after him. On this day, on the ten year anniversary, he was going to recreate the amazing shot and speech that ended the war. But minutes before the presentation he remained alone on a bar stool at the saloon.

Gregory Trent slumped back on the bar stool and asked for another beer. “Are you sure you want to be drunk for your big show?” The bartender asked.

“Sure, why not.” He burped as he threw his hands in the air. “Who cares anyway? I just did an unbelievable shot while in the midst of battle. Why wouldn’t I be able to do it drunk?” 

“You do have quite a reputation to uphold. The greatest gunslinger in all the county.” The bartender dramatized. “Neigh I say country, or even world. I mean shooting a bullet exactly on the edge of a swor-”

“Just give me another beer Jones.” Gregory interrupted. Suddenly, a horde of fans and admirers came running into the bar and dragged him to the town square. He was dressed in his sergeant’s uniform, adored with all his medals. He stood on the crate and looked around at the people all with adoring eyes, waiting for the big recreation. He opened his mouth, the people stared at him with anticipation, “I’m a fraud.” He said.

Gregory did always want to have a legacy and to be remembered and he hated the war. He was a private in the final battle but that battle was his first day as a soldier. Throughout his childhood when bullies would chase him or a bird would fly past him, he would shudder and run away. He got a reputation for being a coward, and his fear of everything definitely extended to going to war. On Gregory’s first day in the war, he snuck away and changed clothes, figuring no one would notice if he went home instead of fighting. But then one of his friends in his regiment assumed he was the one the give the the great speech and end the war, Gregory didn’t know what to say so he just said he was. Gregory wanted to be remembered for something other than as a coward. 

This lie was now coming to back around to haunt him. He looked down at all the blank faces staring back at him, “I am, I lied, I am not the Masked Soldier who saved our town.” He took a deep breath and stepped off the crate. “I’m a fraud, I can’t make this shot, I’m a terrible shot. I can’t repeat the speech ‘cause I wasn’t there, I’m a coward.” He fell to the ground. The citizens of Trentville began hurling anything they could find at him. He tried to protect himself by covering his face. He curled into a ball clutching his sword and pistol, as the people beat him, called him names and yelled ‘Treason!’ and ‘Traitor!’. They tried ripping off his medals and honors but he was in too tight of a ball. Finally, Gregory got the strength to stand up. In a fit of guilt and rage, Gregory threw his sword to the ground and yelled at the top his lungs, “I get it! I’m a fraud, a liar! But I will not be remembered as a coward.” 

“You won’t be,” The mayor walked through the crowd of angry citizens, “You are banished from Trentville, a town that will now need a new name, until you find the man you pretended to be. You will search this county ‘till you find the one who is the true uniter of this town!” Gregory ran away before they could take anything else from him. He grabbed the nearest horse and rode off with grace and speed, still never to this day to return to this town, and to the people of Grout County, he would forever be known as the Lost Sergeant. 

No one every did figure out who shot the generals, gave a speech and united the towns, all they did know is that is was not Gregory Trent.