15 for 15 Contest --- Closed

I kept waiting for the intermission. It seemed overdue, especially for a military function. Surely there would be a break in a program of this size. I hated to disturb everyone, recalling my mothers' admonition upon graduating from high school: "Always be courteous and wait your turn. The true measure of a gentleman is determined by his good manners.

My legs had fallen asleep and I was experiencing an uneasy feeling. The narrators' voice sounded hurried and excited. The scene in the documentary had reached a dramatic point--the aftermath of an explosion. They were helping an injured man who appeared unconcious. Another man, completely covered in rubble, attempted to maintain his composure. Only his head could be seen. He patiently watched the rescuers save one person after another, waiting his turn.

This was ridiculous--I couldn't wait. I had to relieve myself. I tried to stand up. Oh, no! Not in the chair . . . I can't feel my arms. Something is terribly wrong. I'm going to pass out. Good Lord, it can't be . . . I'm bleeding. My legs have been blown off! Help me! I have always been a gentleman.



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