Old Soldiers Never Die .... by Adam (1996)

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Dan dove to the ground, revolver in hand, and waited for the convoy to pass.  He fingered his weapon, clenched his teeth and considered, just for a moment, scuttling back to the landrover for the medical supply kit.  No - it would have to wait. 

His usually grey, bristling hair was blackened and matted from the head wound.  But Dan would fight on. He was the only one who had the necessary fire to be commander of the team. They needed him.

I appointed Dan as commander because, to my ten-year-old eyes, he was the coolest of my beloved Adventure People action figures.  With his hardcore combat boots and pseudo-military garb, he looked perfect for the part.  It was too bad his days of battle were nearly over.

Tim was my older sister's first boyfriend. He was the kind of guy little brothers hate.  He would come over for a swim and charm my sister by drying his wavy, early '80's locks then chasing her around the pool, whipping her with the wet towel. But his real path to her heart was through hassling me.

He would do the standard fifteen-year-old-boyfriend-of-your-older-sister stuff. He would throw me in the pool, take my stuff, beat me up. But it wasn't until the day of Dan's big battle that Tim helped pave a strip on my road to adulthood.

I was playing in the basement - the bar serving as the perfect lair for Dr. Canopolis and his nasty henchmen. I was usually safe from interruptions in the basement.  But my sister's rotten boyfriend raced in to use the bathroom. As he sped by the tiny boy sitting cross-legged playing with his Adventure People, Tim blurted out, "aren't you a little old to be playing with toys?"

I didn't know how to react to this. I looked at my guys. We had gone through so much together.  We had battled warlords, discovered civilizations and explored planets. They had been traded, lost and then found again, and even relegated to the back of my closet.  But I always came back for them. 

They were my guys.

After a few minutes of quiet thought and reminiscence, I continued on with the battle.  Dan and his men triumphed again. But something was different this time. Something seemed a little less meaningful, a little less magical.

There comes a day when even the most exceptional soldier must hang up his holster. About a year after the big battle, Dan and the team were given honourable discharges. 

They now rest in a box, waiting dutifully, like the soldiers they are, for a new assignment. Someday another ten-year-old kid may be giving them their orders. He may even choose a different team commander. 

I'll put in a good word for Dan.