HONORING BRAVE MUSKETEERS

As we honor the dead, let us remember the living.
Zane Buzby

Thank you all for your wonderful support of this story- despite the trouble I've had! I must make a note that a military Memorial service would NEVER be combined with an Awards Ceremony... but I wanted this final chapter to be a celebration of the living with a remembrance for the dead. I think the spirits of the 16 were in attendance and they were smiling with pride for their brothers!

Thank you, Mountain Cat, for the idea of the Patron Saints for the medals!

"Are you ready for the service today?" Aramis asked Athos.

There was no reply from the captain as he sat on the edge of his cot staring down at his hands. He sat wringing his hands in an almost nervous manner, anxious about the upcoming memorial service.

"Athos, are you okay?" Aramis asked as he placed his hand softly on the captain's shoulder.

The touch startled Athos, causing him to flinch and suddenly jump to his feet. He stood clenching his hands in angry fists as his eyes darted back and forth around the room.

"Hey, Athos," Aramis stepped in front of Athos's line of vision but refrained from touching the captain. "Athos, it's okay," he soothed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Athos huffed angrily as he sat back down on the cot. "All we've done is talk, Aramis," he growled. "We've been stuck in this place for… how many weeks now?" the captain asked, exasperated. "I don't even know the date; I've lost all track of time in here," he complained. "I've lost track of what's going on out there!" he waved his hand in the direction of the door. "Where is my regiment, where are the men? I want to get out of here… I want to go home!" Athos stood again and headed toward the nave.

"Whoa there, cap'n," Porthos stopped Athos by blocking his path. "You ain't goin' nowhere, we have a service to attend in a bit, 'member?"

"How could I forget, Porthos?" he snapped. "God, I wish we never came here; I wish we never laid eyes on that damn bridge!"

Aramis watched with concern as the captain clenched and unclenched his fists, as though controlling a stirring rage within himself. We need to get this service over with and put this place far behind us, before it destroys us from the inside out.

d'Artagnan guided the restless captain once again back to his cot. "Take a deep breath and relax," he advised. "We're going to get through this."

"What do I say?" Athos whispered after a moment.

"Say 'bout what, Athos?" Porthos inquired.

"The eulogy, for the service," the captain clarified. "What do I say? What could I possibly say that would sound remotely appropriate for this whole damn fiasco?" he scrubbed a shaking hand over his face.

"Athos…" Aramis began but was interrupted.

"What could I say that would be fitting as final words, given the circumstances?" Athos asked, not expecting a reply. "Do I thank them for doing their duty as Musketeers, though they still died needlessly under a damn bridge?"

"Athos, we've been through this already," Aramis warned cautiously. "The service will be soon, let's not get into that discussion now please, captain."

"I am ready to go back to Paris," d'Artagnan quickly changed the subject. "Do you think Minister Tréville will allow us to go home after the service? I mean, not right after the service, but soon?"

"Yes," a voice answered from the edge of the nave. Minister Tréville approached the men and nodded. "Yes, I think you boys have earned the right to go home."

Château Comtal, Carcassonne:

"General Turenne has taken the majority of the army south to Andorra la Vella in pursuit of the Spaniards as they head to the border. However, Lieutenant General de Créquy and his battalion have been detached and will remain here, guarding Carcassonne and the roads between the border and Castelnaudary. They will be present for the memorial service," Minister Tréville briefed Captain Athos.

"Thank you, sir," Athos nodded with appreciation.

"Are you ready, Musketeers?" Tréville asked the company of fifteen Musketeers, led by Captain Athos de la Fère.

"Yes sir!" the Musketeers shouted as they stood proudly behind their captain. Due to efforts of some highly motivated sisters of Basilique Saint-Nazaire, with the cooperation of Minister Tréville, the Musketeers had new uniforms—complete with new doublets and new blue cloaks distinguishing them as King's Musketeers. Most of the men's old uniforms were badly damaged and stained from the debris of the bridge, making the new issues very welcome.

The captain and the men insisted on attaching their old pauldrons on the new doublets, as most bore the scars of that fateful day under the bridge. The captain's was especially scarred; the hard leather now cut and pierced by the same metal shards that also riddled his fragile body on the hillside.

The gold fleur-de-lis on the captain's pauldron was marred and chipped with the sword tip now missing, broken by a jagged shard of metal. Athos determined to wear the damaged pauldron to serve as a constant reminder of the men he lost and saved at Pont Vieux.

Just under half of the company of Musketeers was all that remained of the thirty-one men, including the captain, who rode from Castelnaudary to Carcassonne. Remaining were just fifteen men that marched together from the Château Comtal to Porte Narbonnaise.

The march was slow going as Captain Athos still required the use of his crutch, making such exertion quite tiring. His broken arm remained wrapped but was no longer supported in a sling. The captain was happy, at least, to have his hearing back to normal—without the incessant ringing.

The King's Musketeers stood proud at the towered gate, though many were nervous about leaving the walled city where they might catch a glimpse of the bridge. Though adorned in new uniforms, the men still bore the scars and injuries of what happened outside the fortress walls. The physical injuries would one day heal but the scars—both physical and emotional—would forever leave their mark and serve as a reminder of the Pont Vieux.

The Musketeers stood at Porte Narbonnaise, waiting for Minister Tréville's prompt to proceed them forward, on to Cimetière de la Cité where they would pay final respects to their fallen brothers—the fallen sixteen Musketeers.

Finally, Minister Tréville continued on alone through the gate; allowing the captain the honor of leading his company of Musketeers to the cemetery unaccompanied. At last, Captain Athos and his band of Musketeers marched through the eastern gate of the fortress toward the final resting place of their fallen brothers.

"Bataillon! ... attention!" ordered Lieutenant General de Créquy in a loud call. Hundreds of French soldiers lining the path to the cemetery snapped to attention, followed by the sound of hundreds of boots clicking together smartly in one fluid motion.

"Présentez… armes!" ordered the general. Again, as one, the soldiers presented their muskets diagonally across their chests in salute, as the officers presented their swords vertically.

Captain Athos's breath caught in his throat at the sight before him, causing him to hesitate in astonishment at the archway. At Porthos's soft touch to his shoulder, the captain rallied and led his Musketeers between the rows of soldiers standing at attention, lining the path all the way to the cemetery.

Athos tried not to look at the soldiers but kept his eyes focused ahead on Minister Tréville as he waited for the Musketeers to take their place at the gravesite. Arriving at the cemetery, as the company rounded the path, Athos stopped short as an unexpected sight once again took his breath away and caused him to pause.

"My God," Captain Athos uttered as he stood momentarily frozen, holding up the company of men behind him. Standing at attention beside the small cemetery was the entire Musketeer regiment, wearing their formal blue cloaks, after having arrived from Castelnaudary to attend the special memorial service honoring their fallen brothers.

The sight of his men standing ready to pay tribute to their fellow Musketeers made Athos's heart pound in his chest with pride but shadowed with overwhelming sadness. The captain faltered as his legs weakened from the rush of emotion; he suddenly felt dizzy and swayed on his feet as his vision greyed.

Aramis and d'Artagnan rushed forward to stand shoulder to shoulder against Athos as support, holding the captain steady and upright between them until the moment of weakness had passed. Athos smiled and nodded with appreciation at his friends before hobbling on to his place beside the minister.

"Are you alright?" Minister Tréville asked as he took in the pale face of the captain, now beaded with droplets of sweat. He watched with concern as the captain's chest heaved from the exertion of the long walk, frowning as he fought to control his breathing.

Athos nodded, not trusting his voice should he try to speak. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard as emotion bubbled from his chest at the grand display honoring his men. He stood at attention beside Minister Tréville as the men gathered behind them in formation of two rows.

As the large group stood waiting, the sound of trumpets suddenly blared, announcing the arrival of the king. A sea of colorful banners snapping in the breeze brightened the somber ceremony; swallowtail banners of blue with golden fleur-de-lis and banners with the Royal Crest of the House of Bourbon went before King Louis XIII in a glorious and regal display.

Aramis, d'Artagnan and Porthos exchanged stunned glances at the regal announcement; Athos turned in shock to look at Minister Tréville, who forced back a grin as he tried maintaining his soldierly demeanor. As one, the entire group bowed in formal respect as Louis, King of France arrived.

The company of Musketeers was not informed of the king's attendance to the memorial service; they merely expected a quick and simple service conducted by Minister Tréville.

The formality of the service with the arrival of the king, Lieutenant General de Créquy and his battalion of soldiers, as well as the entire Musketeer regiment, far exceeded the expectation of Captain Athos and his men. Once again, Athos found himself swallowing a lump of emotion rising from his chest.

King Louis XIII stood overlooking the crowd, all still bent at the waist in a reverent bow before their king. He was quite impressed at the magnificent sight; his loyal subjects who gathered to honor the fallen of his Musketeer regiment. He smiled as he raised his hands, prompting the crowd to regain their stand at attention.

"We are here to pay homage to my fallen sixteen brave Musketeers who died while trapped by enemy troops underneath Le Pont Vieux, just beyond where we are gathered. As your king, I am proud to represent you and I am proud of my faithful, loyal, and very brave soldiers—the elite Musketeers."

"These Musketeers," the king waved his hand the length of the Musketeer regiment standing before him, "ensure my safety on a daily basis and I could not properly function without them. I do not give them enough of my appreciation for their service to their country and to their king. Today, as we gather to remember the fallen, while honoring the survivors, I send out to you my sincere gratitude for your service and your sacrifice."

"Captain Athos de la Fère, report front and center," King Louis commanded.

Athos glanced questioningly at Minister Tréville, who smiled and gave a nod of affirmation. The captain hobbled toward the king leaning heavily on his crutch, grateful he had a means of support to keep him upright. His heart pounded in his chest from nervous apprehension at being recognized by the king for something he saw as only an act of desperation.

"Athos, for your brave and selfless act to save the lives of your company of Musketeers by disabling three enemy cannon and killing over a dozen enemy soldiers, I, King Louis XIII, do hereby award you, Captain Athos de la Fère, the distinguished Médaille d'honneur pour acte de courage et de dévouement for your bravery and conspicuous valor on the field of battle. Captain Athos, you displayed selfless gallantry and were successful in saving the lives of twelve of your men at great cost to yourself."

The king placed a sash around Athos's shoulder and brought it diagonally across his chest; in not wanting to damage the new leather doublet, the king pinned the medal to the sash. "Congratulations Captain, well done, my faithful Musketeer," the king smiled. "However, I am not finished just yet," his smile grew as he took a second medal from the assistant's hands.

"For your injuries sustained in the course of official duty in the service of France, I, King Louis XIII, do hereby award you, Captain Athos de le Fère, the Croix de St. Denis. Well done, Captain," the king said as he pinned the second medal to Athos's sash.

Athos bowed in humble respect to his king, "thank you, Your Majesty. It is indeed an honor to receive these awards from you, Sire," Athos stayed bowed until the king nodded, allowing him to rise. The captain then returned to his place in front of the company of Musketeers.

"Minister Tréville, if you would come forward and present your awards," King Louis called.

Minister Tréville stepped forward and then turned to face the company. "Musketeers Aramis, d'Artagnan, and Porthos, front and center," he ordered.

The three Musketeers were stunned, exchanging silent glances with wide eyes of surprise. They swallowed hard before stepping forward to stand before Minister Tréville.

"Aramis and d'Artagnan, for your meritorious and selfless act of bravery in going downriver to retrieve the army in Castelnaudary, you risked great danger and potential death in order to save the stranded company of Musketeers," Tréville stated as he picked up the first award.

"Because of your bold and daring act, twelve men survived with the arrival of Lieutenant General de Créquy's army. You are hereby awarded the Saint Genevieve Médaillon of Valeur." Minister Tréville first put the medallion around Aramis's neck, and then placed the second around d'Artagnan's neck, who bowed his head slightly as he received the award.

"Congratulations, gentlemen," Tréville shook the hands of the two Musketeers. "Well done."

"Thank you, sir," Aramis and d'Artagnan replied together. They stood in place as they waited for the minister to present Porthos his award.

"Porthos du Vallon, for your brave and selfless act in protecting your fellow Musketeers as the bridge collapsed, at great cost to yourself, you are hereby awarded the Saint-Georges Médaillon pour Bravoure," the minister put the medallion around Pothos's neck as he bowed low to receive it.

"Thank you, sir," Porthos smiled as he shook Minister Treville's hand.

"In addition, Porthos du Vallon, for your injuries sustained in the course of official duty in the service of France, you are hereby awarded the Croix de St. Denis. Congratulations," Minister Tréville said as he pinned the award to his blue cloak. "Well done, Porthos, I'm proud of you, son," he whispered as he clapped the large Musketeer on the shoulder.

"Thank you, sir" Porthos forced down the rising emotion and blinked back tears threatening to spill—he never expected this.

"Maintain your position here a moment, gentlemen," Minister Tréville ordered. The minister stood in front of the wounded company of Musketeers as an assistant with a tray full of medals appeared.

"Each and every one of you were wounded while trapped under the Pont Vieux while fighting the enemy. Your courage and strength under fire has not gone unnoticed; I personally want to say thank you and job well done. For wounds received in the service of France, you are hereby awarded the Croix de St. Denis. Congratulations, Musketeers."

Minister Tréville proceeded to pin the award to each Musketeer's blue cloak; he took his time as he shook each man's hand while saying words of heartfelt gratitude to everyone. "Well done, gentlemen," the minister said as the Musketeers were finished receiving their awards.

"Return to your posts, Musketeers," Tréville ordered Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan before turning to address the company of Musketeers one final time.

"This part of the service was to honor the living, those who survived a senseless and atrocious act committed by the enemy. On behalf of Louis XIII, King of France; General Turenne and myself, we extend to you our gratitude for your bravery and courage when facing insurmountable odds and potential defeat. Each and every one of you has performed your duty bravely and in so doing, you have brought great honor to yourselves, your regiment, your country, and your king," the minister stated proudly.

"We will now remember and honor those whom we have lost—the sixteen brave Musketeers, who have been laid to rest in this hallowed ground. Captain Athos de la Fère will pay tribute and remember the brave souls we honor here today. Captain," the minister waited for Athos to slowly hobble back to the front of the company, before standing aside to allow the captain front and center.

The captain stood before the men bearing the scars from the wounds he received in his daring charge up the hill. Ragged lines of red stood out against pale skin where the shards of metal tore into the captain's body; and he leaned heavily on his wooden crutch as his broken foot remained wrapped. But it was his downcast, haggard countenance that was most telling of the grief he felt and carried for men he lost but had tried so hard to save.

"Nothing that I say here today can truly or properly express what I feel regarding these sixteen fine soldiers; these brave and courageous Musketeers," Athos said.

"Some of the men I knew for years, while others for just a short time, but all of them served in this regiment honorably and with great distinction. I am very proud of every single one of these men who served—and are now serving—in this regiment," he spoke to not only the wounded remnant but to the main body of Musketeers in the back.

"I am proud to be the captain of the greatest regiment of elite soldiers in service to the king…"

"Here, here," said the chipper voice of King Louis, who bore a grin spreading across his face from ear to ear at the compliment.

Athos couldn't help but smile at the king. Turning his attention back to the regiment, "the loss of these sixteen men will be deeply felt in the hearts of every single Musketeer standing here. It hurts," the captain paused to clear his throat. "They were our friends and confidants; they were our fellow Musketeers and fellow soldiers; they were our fellow countrymen… they were our brothers."

"We will mourn their loss, we will cry—and have cried—for the pain that their loss has created; but allow me to pass along some very wise advice given to me," he paused. "Do not carry the weight of their loss on your shoulders but honor their memory by living." Athos paused as his voice quivered and his eyes watered. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing.

"These sixteen men would be the first to tell us to not quit or give up on life but to go on living—for yourselves and for them."

"I will conclude with these last few words of a poem which I found most applicable;"

"When you walk through the storm

hold your head up high

and don't be afraid of the dark.

At the end of the storm is a golden sky

and the sweet silver song of the lark.

Walk on, through the wind.

Walk on, through the rain.

Though your dreams be tossed and blown,

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart

and you'll never walk alone.

You'll never walk alone."

Athos's voice cracked just before a sob escaped and held-back tears spilled from his eyes. He stood clenching his fists tightly, deliberately digging his fingernails into his palms to force control of his emotions. He breathed deeply as he wiped the sweat from his face and the tears from his eyes.

"Athos?" Tréville called out with concern, ready to take over if the captain couldn't continue.

Athos held up his hand to the minister and shook his head, "I'm alright," he said. He bowed his head as he took another deep breath and let it out slowly as he blinked away the tears.

Through glistening eyes, he watched his three best friends doing their best to hold themselves together as they struggled emotionally. The three brothers each felt grief and sorrow for the loss of the sixteen men; but moreso, they felt despair for the captain as he personally struggled to deal with this terrible loss.

The four looked at each other and the grief disappeared for a moment, replaced with a silent exchange of reassurance and comfort for their captain. Finally, the three gave Athos a resolute nod of support to continue.

Athos took another deep breath. "We will now have our Final Roll Call as we honor and remember these sixteen brave Musketeers.

Auzenne

Baraque

Béringer

Chaussee

de la Fontaine

Deschamps

Félix

Guilbeaux

Huguet

Lefévre

Levéque

Michaud

Normandeau

Philippe

Rousseau

St. Vincent

"May the Lord bless thee, and keep thee; the Lord make His face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace."

"Amen."

A/N:

This concludes this story. I know this ends with a rather abrupt, sad finish but I don't think there would be a way that I could really do justice in continuing this story. I would imagine that the Musketeers would be sent back to Paris where they would be removed from battle-ready status until they had a time of proper healing, emotionally and physically. They would have to find replacements for the lost Musketeers to bring them back up to full regiment numbers—but I would feel sorry for those replacements, as I imagine it would take time for the men to warm up to them. However, as in real life, life goes on. Duty to the king would go on… but the memory of the sixteen would live on forever.

Final Roll Call

For those in the U.S., a typical military memorial service for a fallen hero is a very reverent and solemn event. The Final Roll Call, especially is difficult because the finality of the loss hits very hard when the name is called, yet no one answers. The way the US Army does Final Roll Call is that they call the person's rank and name—and pause for an answer; they repeat with rank and FULL name (including middle name) and wait for a reply… that never comes. It's terribly sad and haunting.

For the sake of the story, I just used last names that Athos called out one by one.

French Military Medals

I wanted to have the awarding of medals to honor the bravery of the Musketeers, as they would do in real life, but I did not wish to diminish the honor of those French soldiers who have received the awards by using the real medals. All but one of the medals are made up and named after Patron Saints for reasons listed below. However, the real award I kept was Médaille d'honneur pour actes de courage et de dévouement (Medal of Honor for Acts of Courage and Devotion) This is an old award, existing since the days of King Louis XIV. King Louis Philippe made it a wearable medal on April 12, 1831.
This medal would be similar to the U.S.'s Medal of Honor established in 1863.

The Croix de Saint Denis was patterned after the Insigne des blessés militaires or Insignia for the Military Wounded, established in 1916 during WWI for those killed and wounded in battle. It is similar to the U.S. Purple Heart, although not awarded until 1932, it was back-dated to those wounded or killed in WWI from 1917 forward.

Saint Denis:
He was martyred, with his companions Rusticus and Eleutherius, in connection with the persecution of Christians after 250 AD. Denis is said to have picked his head up after being decapitated and walked ten kilometres (six miles), while preaching a sermon of repentance.

Saint Genevieve:
It is said that she saved Paris by diverting Attila's Huns away from the city. She convinced the people of Paris to fast and pray instead of fleeing from the city, and when the praying started, Atilla diverted—thus saving Paris.

Saint Georges:
In 302, A.D. Diocletian issued an edict ordering the arrest of every Christian soldier in his army. Saint George, using the courage of his faith, he faced the Emperor to loudly renounce the edict. It is also said that he tore down all the Emperor's edicts. He was dragged through the street and tortured excessively, including laceration on a wheel of swords. It is said he was resuscitated from that particular torture three times, and was finally beheaded at the city wall on April 23, 303.

Song You'll Never Walk Alone:

Obviously, this is a song and not a poem but I thought the words were so fitting. I used author discretion to fit it into my story.
You'll Never Walk Alone is a show tune from the 1945 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Carousel.

Scripture:

Numbers 6:24-26 KJV