The man with the white beard has lived his life. He has seen much. His confident stance belays the resilience and callous of much experience. Yet, the “echoes” in his mind of what transpired in this quiet lush meadow force a tear from his eye. The bodies have been carried away. Still, the misty sound and sight of men and boys far younger than him remain. Though the smoke has dissipated, there is still crackle in the sky as the sun sets over men’s souls.