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HOMECOMING BY MIGUEL HIDALGO What lasts forever? Not even forever [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, April 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] They had no place in the dust-caked, tired body, yet there they were, seeking, always seeking—searching the clear horizon, and never seeming to find what they sought. They were nearing a river; the water would be welcome on tired bodies and dry throats. Then both man and horse plunged headlong into the waiting torrent, deep into the cool embrace of the clear liquid. Refreshed and momentarily content, he sat staring into the dying fire, seeing the bright glowing coals as living fingers clutching at the wood in consuming embrace, taking all and returning nothing but ashes. Images began to appear, drawn from inexhaustible files, wherein are kept all thoughts, past, present, and future.... It was the night before he was to go overseas. World War III had been declared, and he had enlisted, receiving his old rank of captain. She took off the locket she wore about her neck and held it up to the shimmering light, letting it spin at the end of its chain. It caught the shadows of the fire and reflected them, greatly magnified, over the room. When he opened it, he found a picture of her in one side, and in the other a picture of the children. Then he kissed her, and instantly was drawn down into the abyss which seemed to have no beginning or any end. His cold fingers found the locket, making a little bulge under his uniform, and the touch of it seemed to warm the blood in his veins. Three days later they had landed in Spain, merged with another division, then crossed the Pyrenees into France, and finally to Paris where the fighting had begun. Already the city was a silent graveyard, littered with the rubble of towers and cathedrals which had once been great. The Russians had not yet used the H-bomb; the threat of annihilation by the retaliation forces had been too great. The very feel of the word was everything a battle-weary soldier needed to make him fight harder and live longer. They were bound for bigger, more important targets. When the all-clear had sounded, the men clambered from their shelters. An icy wind swept the field, bringing with it clouds which covered the sun.
 Material objects cannot replace emotional connection.
 With loss comes great strength.  Material objects cannot replace emotional connection.  Things will always stay right where you left them.  With honor comes struggle.