Sarah Hey: Little Stone Bridges & Why We Fight for Them

A little something for you to chew on over the next 24 hours -- and perhaps respond to
June 22, 8:20 am

Inevitably in the times surrounding a fierce, heated battle a soldier must think occasionally "What on earth am I doing out here in the middle of nowhere, What on earth am I doing out here in the middle of nowhere, fighting for this silly little piece of land that my unit leader has told me to go out and take? It's not worth the bloodshed, I see no tactical or strategic merit to it, and besides, I could get killed for pretty much no reason other than taking that knoll, or traversing the river, or battling all day across this field. I have much better and even more useful things to do back in my tent."

In our own Episcopal church case, I have frequently imagined that we are out in the middle of some forest, with a little stream or river running through it, and a quaint, slightly crumbling and vine-clinging, little stone bridge crossing the body of water. The bridge is made of grey stone, of course, and it has a beautiful arch in its span. It is old, and its architect had an artist's heart, but it has clearly seen better days. Save for those fighting over it, there aren't a whole lot of people around, either to take note of the melee and carry news back to others, or to take part in the battle. It is unlikely that we will receive reinforcements. But for some very strange reason, a number of us -- a small unit -- are being told to fight for or over this bridge. It is a pitched battle, full of hurled insults and cyber bloodshed, tactical actions, retreats by some [or perhaps calls back to their camp to await further orders], logistics and communications challenges, going awol, unexpected heroism, despair, and much more. We keep waiting for further orders, but so far the same command keeps reaching us -- to hold the bridge. It appears rather unlikely -- we're at hand-to-hand combat at this point.

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