“You see, it’s usually peaceful,” Hammond says, his voice trembling slightly. “I can hear my own thoughts, think about the old days, and be grateful I’m still here. But what I saw earlier … it brought back memories I hadn’t felt in a long time.”
Hammond stops, pressing his lips together as if steadying himself for a moment. Slowly, he recounts what happened. Far across the valley, near a cluster of trees, he noticed a sudden commotion—an out-of-control truck barreling off the main road. Even from a distance, the sight of heavy vehicles veering unpredictably triggered a flashback to the battlefield. The war veteran was momentarily transported to a terrifying moment in Europe, when he and his comrades had to dodge artillery trucks and tanks on roads that felt impossibly narrow under fire.
“There’s that split second where your mind thinks you’re back there,” he says, tapping a trembling finger against the binoculars. “You can hear the explosions, smell the smoke, see your buddies right next to you.”
Thankfully, nobody was seriously injured—locals managed to help the driver regain control. But the episode left Hammond deeply unsettled, a reminder that even after so many years, trauma can surface without warning.
“I’ve never talked much about those days,” he confesses, turning the binoculars over in his hands. “But I guess we all carry something. War leaves its imprint, and sometimes it’s just sitting there beneath the surface, waiting for a moment to resurface.”
Though it shook him, Hammond refuses to let this reminder of the past dissuade him from his daily ritual. Early the next morning, as the sun’s first rays stretch across the valley, he is back on his bench, binoculars at the ready. In fact, he says he’ll probably do this for the rest of his life. The habit brings him joy, and in a way, offers him the peace he fought so hard to protect decades ago.
“If there’s one lesson from my service,” he says, “it’s that every day we have is a blessing. I look through these binoculars, and I remember the ones who aren’t here to see this view.”
For Hammond, the binoculars are a bridge between who he was and who he has become—an artifact from days past that continues to help him find meaning in the present. While they cannot erase the pain or the haunting memories, they serve as a steadfast companion for a veteran finding solace on a quiet hillside, day after day.