There is a place in heaven where they come together. Soldiers from different wars, young men just seem to find each other there.

Time stood still in their final moments when they had surrendered their lives to a blast, a bullet, a bomb in victories and defeats. Life as they once knew it to be is what they still have an opportunity to see.

They left behind friends, families, farms and favorite fields that had danced inside warm summer breezes, homemade childhood playgrounds from where they played their games that now are memories they hold onto in this heavenly haven, a Story Room where their spirits have become singular to the cause.

John Baxter, who died at age 19 in 1781 from a shot to his chest in the Battle at Yorktown, arrives first in the room. Next comes Billy Wilson, 17, with no grave to bury him, his body blown to bits from a Confederate cannon shell at Gettysburg in 1863.

Joe Stevens a, 21-year-old Battle of the Argonne Forest casualty in 1918, is third to come followed by Tony Skarpetta, killed by machine-gun fire at Normandy Beach in 1944. Max Casey, age 27, who died from an air attack in the Korean Demilitarized Zone in 1966, was the fourth to enter the room. And the last to show his presence was Steve Summers, 31, who is still reported as missing in action somewhere in Vietnam.

“They just had another Fourth of July down there,” said John. “Everyone was eating hamburgers and hot dogs. The day before I died at Yorktown, I remember eating beans my mom had put into my pack. They were really good, but not for a last meal. If I had some of her homemade rabbit stew, well now, that would have been my choice.”

“I had some salt pork for the fifth day in a row for my last meal,” said Billy. “It was so damn hard, I broke off a tooth that I swallowed with the last bite.”

“I lost a tooth, too,” said Joe. “I took a bite of a biscuit that was hard as a rock. No choice but to eat what they gave you.”

“We ate whatever came out of a can,” said Tony. “Before I died, I got a cut from a lid. Didn’t have enough time left to worry about a little blood on my finger,” he added with a laugh.

“We ate the leftovers from your war,” said Max. “Food is food. You gotta eat.”

“It was all about calories for us in Vietnam,” said Steve. “Whatever prepackaged food we ate had to be at least 3,700 calories a day. Had to keep strong to fight in the jungle, you know.”

“What do you guys remember about the moment when it was all over?” he asked.

“I don’t remember much,” replied Max. “I was running into some cover. I could hear the planes overhead and I felt what I thought was a bug bite on my neck. I reached my hand and saw it was covered in blood. I stumbled and down I went. That’s about it.”

“We were all scared, dare I say scared to death,” Tony replied. “Operation Overlord to liberate Western Europe. Omaha Beach for me. We got there at the last day of the invasion. I made it to the shore, took I think three steps and boom, I felt my chest cave in real fast, lost my breath, I fell, and I was done.”

“We weren’t as prepared as the Germans to fight in the thick woods of the Argonne Forest,” Joe explained. “I couldn’t see 10 feet in front of me when I felt the bullet hit me in my head. I reached up, tasted some blood and suddenly, I was lifted from my body and I came here. What a change from the gunfire and the bedlam to come to this blissful place.”

“I felt absolutely nothing, but I heard canon shells exploding all around me,” Billy said. “All I can tell you is that I saw a bright light guiding me here and I felt so much safer than where I was.”

Steve looked around the room at all the new faces from different wars, yet he felt a certain kindred, a brotherhood as if they had fought on the same battlefields.

“We Nam guys knew right from the get-go that we couldn’t win a war that would mean anything back home. I mean John, you had to fight to break the tyranny from Britain and win a new country. Billy, you fought to free the slaves. Joe, Tony you had to save an entire world from such awful oppression. Max, you’re like me. Nobody much cared, except for our families.”

John lifted his eyes. “I was only 19. When the guns fired and the smoke was so thick, I wasn’t thinking about independence. I just wanted to survive and get back home to my family.”

“Me too,” said Billy. “I had a gal back home in Maine. She was my reason to try to stay alive.”

“I was engaged to be married,” Tony said. “Her name was Kelly. She was my heart throb.”

“And I was already married with a son named Joshua I never got to see,” said Joe.

“You know what?” said Max. “All wars are stupid. They ought to let the old men who declare them fight each other.” The room filled with applause. “Anyway, we’re all here now and there’s no place on Earth as beautiful and peaceful as here and, if I might add, there never will be.”

Just then, two men dressed in German uniforms, a British Redcoat, an Alabama Confederate, a North Korean and a member of the People’s Army of North Vietnam entered the room.

“Oh, no, the enemies are here,” said Tony, “and look at them staring us down. Come on in fellas. I brought us a couple of decks of cards. What do you say we play some poker?”

The men shook hands, and as they played the games each one told their favorite childhood story, and the room was filled with laughter.

Email Rich Strack at richiesadie11@gmail.com