Three knocks for sorrow.

The Alderman family were preparing for bed as winter roared outside. It was a chilled and freezing night, but the house was warm and cozy, the heat cranked up to maximum. Outside the wind moaned and the shutters groaned. The limbs on the trees made loud swishing noises, while the weeping willow mournfully swayed, as if tonight, it was expecting somber news. But then, willow was like that, except when the wind rested and a rare silence embraced the night...then the tree just drooped woefully.

Jaimz was wrapped in layers, but still blowing on his fingers which were numb from his coming home late.

"It's a wicked blizzard blowing tonight, Mother, I sure hope no one has to be out in such a freeze". Jaimz said to his wife.

"I pray for any soul out there, it will be an unwise choice of night for galivanting, I tell ya". Ida was busy making sure everything was properly locked up.

"Mom, dad...did we get any letter from Rob today"? Maree asked, skipping down the stairs. At fifteen, she was as tall as a tree, and was the spitting image of her mother.

Jaimz and Ida had gotten married right after college. Robert was born two years later, Maree making her appearance almost seven years after. The two children were close, the best of friends despite the age difference.

"No dear, and it is a bit strange that we haven't got one in a while". Ida looked at Jaimz, they had been discussing the subject earlier. The letters had come once or twice per month for the last year and they had not heard from him in a while.

Still, the military had advised them that this was not unusual, changes in routine and circumstances will differ depending on location and duty.

"Maybe tomorrow, if the mailman can get through". Her dad said, his brows drawn in a worried frown.

"No use worrying for nothing, we better get to bed, early start tomorrow". Mother said, hopeful for good news tomorrow.

They said their goodnights, praying for a bit of sunshine to start the next day.

......

Ida was dreaming of her son, Robert, who, now at twenty three years old next month, had always wanted to be a soldier in the Army. He had been so excited to be away on his first mission overseas, so far he had only been on military bases in the US. Rob started his training in high school at seventeen, his parents giving their consent, praying for his safety and long military career. He enlisted as soon as he could, and attended basic training at summer camp. Immediately after senior year and graduation, he had begun advanced individual training.

They had never tried openly to dissuade him, though they hoped privately that he would opt for a safer career. They respected his choice and supported him.

The dream was so strange, Robert was walking, almost running towards her, it had been a while since he had seen her, she wanted to hug him, happy to finally have him home again. But, why were they in a woodland, a sort of isolated jungle with no one around. Yet, the closer she got to him, the farther away he seemed to get. And what was that knocking in her head?

Ida came awake, her eyes blinking in confusion, looking around and adjusting her focus, she realized that she had been dreaming and the knocking was at the front door. She grabbed her glasses from the side table and squinted at the clock, it was 7.25 am. A bit early for anyone to be knocking...and they had all overslept on what seemed to be a still snowy and overcast morning.

Taking a quick look out the window, she saw the promise of a bit of sunshine as the day progressed.

Bang, bang, bang!

Ida rolled her eyes. Whoever that was better have a darned good reason to be knocking so early. She shook Jaimz awake, grabbed her robe and headed for the door, yelling for Maree to wake up.

Tying her robe even tighter, the cold seeping into her bones despite the heat...Ida opened the door.

Two Casualty Notification Officers (CNO) stood there, their heads slightly bowed. They were trained to deal with these situations, but it was never an easy way to deliver bad news. They do their best to be compassionate and deliver their message in a kind and dignified manner...Hoping for the strength to cope with the grief.

Ida didn’t need words. The sight alone - two men in Class A uniforms, standing solemn in the snow - was a language she had prayed never to understand.

Her breath caught before it could become a terrified gasp. The knock now appeared gentle, almost reverent, when compared to the men in uniform...becoming a thunder in her head. Her eyes scanned their faces, searching for mercy, for contradiction, for anything that might undo the truth she thought they already knew. But their heads were bowed, their posture formal, and the snow clung to their shoulders like mourning veils.

Ida screamed for Jaimz, as she felt her knees weaken, not from surprise but from the weight of recognition. This was the visit every military parent dreads...the ritual of grief dressed in precision and protocol. Her heart, trained to hope through long silences and distant deployments, now betrayed her with a thudding ache that spread through her chest like frostbite.

There was no scream of acceptance. No collapse. Just a stillness - a sacred, terrible stillness - as if time itself had paused to honor the moment. Her hand, still on the doorknob, trembled. Her lips parted, but no other words, except the first yell for Jaimz could escape her lips. Only the widening of her eyes, the tightening of her throat, and the silent, immediate knowing: My boy.

Jaimz and Maree, hearing the terrible wail, came dashing out to the living room. they both stopped dead in their tracks at the sight unfolding before them.

"Nooooooo"! Maree, collapsing, was caught by her father before she fell.

The door creaked wider, warm light spilling out onto the snow like the offering of a fragile lifeline. Ida stood in its glow, her hand still on the knob, her eyes locked on the two men before her. Their uniforms were immaculate, their expressions the epitome of solemn duty. One held a folded paper in gloved hands. The other cleared his throat, the sound brittle in the cold.

“Mr. and Mrs. Alderman,” the taller one said, voice low and rehearsed. “We regret to inform you…”

But Ida didn’t hear the rest. Not fully. The words came like echoes underwater - regret, service, missing, presumed. Her body registered them, but her soul did not absorb them. Because something deeper stirred within her. A pulse. A knowing.

The dream...her son waited to be found.

She looked past the men, into the approaching day. The snow fell softly, but her heart beat louder. No, it whispered. He’s not gone.

Her eyes returned to the officers. "You’re wrong". She said, not with defiance, but with quiet certainty. “Robert’s not dead".

The younger officer blinked, startled. The older one softened, as if he’d heard this before. "Ma’am, I understand this is difficult - "

"No", she interrupted, her voice steady now. “I would feel it. I would know. He’s not gone".

The paper trembled slightly in the officer’s hand. Ida stepped forward, her gaze unwavering. "You did your duty. And I thank you. But my son is not a name on a list. He’s out there. Somewhere. And he’s coming home".

The wind stirred the trees behind them. The snow continued to fall. And for a moment, the officers stood not as bearers of grief, but as witnesses to something unexplainable - a mother’s unshakable bond, defying protocol, defying death.

...

Jaimz, collecting his thoughts, gently escorted his daughter to the couch and walked to the door, embracing his wife. He looked at the two men standing in the extreme cold, to which he had become numb, no longer able to feel.

"Please come inside, you must be freezing". His voice was barely audible.

"Yes, Thank you sir". The older officer accepted.

They all sat on the couch and chairs, a gathering of belief, knowing and hoping, going over the details of what they knew.

One month ago, the plane carrying the soldiers had gone down. They had lost the signal, a thorough search, still ongoing, had been carried out. Yet everyone had hoped...still hoped to find the soldiers, dead or alive.

They apologized for the delay, but there is no specific time limit for informing loved ones because the situation is far more complex than a confirmed death. The military will investigate, depending on the particular development or circumstance of the disappearance, and time is an active factor. Thy would, in a timely manner, inform loved ones of death, capture or continued absence.

The younger officer explained that a Chaplain and Medic were available. They would make themselves available with them whenever they wished to speak further on the matter at any time if they so desired.

The men rose to leave, respectfully declining the offer of coffee, not wanting to intrude any further into this intimate and sacred family grief.

The family sat huddled on the sofa for a long time. Unsure of how to proceed with their normal lives from here. How does one process such a loss and move on, was the question on all of their minds.

...Meanwhile

In a yet unidentified jungle, a young soldier awakens from a strange dream. Someone he knew had been reaching out to him, he could not see her face, but she knew him by name. They were running in slow motion towards each other. A distant pain was slowly crawling up his legs, catapulting his stress level into hyperdrive. It hurt like the mother of all pain.

He opens his eyes, trying to move was hell, he hurt everywhere and blood was dripping into his mouth, he could taste the salty, metallic iron of his own life giving fluid oozing...yet it gave him a comforting feel of the euphoria of being alive.

But alive for how long. What if he were in enemy territory, and got captured.

He got hold of a broken tree limb which was lying nearby and began to crawl out. Looking around, he saw two of the members of his unit laying unmoving not far from where he woke up. Now that the rubble was no longer covering his legs, he saw the bit of metal embedded in his thigh.

"Oh, f##k". He swore. The image of a young face appeared before him, scolding him that he swore too much. Tears misted his eyes, he had not heard from his family in months.

Using the limb for balance, he stood up, wincing and straightening his legs as best he could. The young man was overjoyed to see the broken plane in the distance, he could get help, hopefully find the first-aid kit, attend to his wound, then search for signs of survivors.

He thanked the stars for his training as a medic as well as being prepared for regular combat duties.

The plane's radio was destroyed, but he found a partially broken satellite phone still intact enough to maybe be of some use. He tried to call, but the static was so bad, he could not hear a thing, plus he was not at all sure that the obstruction overhead would allow signals through anyway. The forest was extremely dense. Hopefully, they could be tracked using this phone at a later time . Luckily, the first-aid kit was still on the plane, he mended his leg and bandaged it as best he could, taking pills for his pain.

Night was fast approaching, and somewhere in the distance he saw a light which seemed to be moving towards him. Hobbling around quickly, he peered between the trees, trying to identify anyone else besides the two bodies not far off. Not seeing anyone, he went to check on his fallen, hopefully alive comrades...miraculously they were still breathing.

Robert got to work. Ignoring the pain in his entire body, he checked the vitals of the men. One seemed to be concussed, the other may have had internal injuries, he groaned when his stomach was touched. Rob knew that he should not move him, but he had no choice. He carefully dragged the two men to the shelter of the rubble which had covered and sheltered him. It was like a make-shift tent, only flat enough to be mistaken for just the root of a tree, hardly visible to the undiscerning eyes. To a curious passer-by, it looked only like what it was, a pile of rubble.

Hoping beyond hope that he could arrange a hiding place before whoever was coming got to them, he hurried back to the plane, making trip after trip. He got the guns, flashlights, all the water he could carry, dehydrated food, and easy to eat meals that he could salvage and shoved them inside the shelter. Finally, he covered the whole area over with fallen tree limbs, climbed under and waited.

He must have fallen asleep, because somewhere he could hear a distant knocking. Three raps...like on a door. His eyes flew open in fear, an alarm bell went off in his head...something was wrong.

Someone was beside him, shushing him and pointing. Robert could barely see the figure of his troop member in the slivers of light shining in. They must have some form of high powered lighting source outside. He heard loud angry shouting. They were ripping the plane apart, searching for the men.

The knock he had heard was someone banging on the rubble he had used to disguise their makeshift shelter. He did not recognize the language, but he recognized curiosity, someone was beginning to pull the shelter apart.

Robert prayed silently.

Suddenly, there was a shout from the direction of the plane. The two men held their breaths.

With what sounded like cursing, the movement stopped and the men stomped off. After a long while, the light receded and silence settled over the forest.

What had happened to the other soldiers from the plane...were they dead or captured.

The most important thing was to tend to Paul's injuries, his dog tag had his name and blood type. Robert believed he had a few broken ribs, he had to wake him up, make him sit up, lying down was dangerous. Propping him up, Rob used the water bottles as a cold compress. It took two days, finally awake, he was given ibuprofen while they supported him to walk around every so often...movement was crucial to his healing.

They were not leaving him behind. Keeping hidden was their prime objective. Rob and Paul took turns keeping a careful watch.

It has been two months now. Luckily there were fruit trees, big juicy green prickly fruits which they had seen one of the men pick and eat while they hid. It was actually quite tasty and the meat alternated as a cold compress for Paul's injury.

Now stronger, Paul had managed to repair the satellite phone...hopefully it would work. Mark's head injury seemed healed, he had suffered from nausea, confusion, vision changes and symptoms of a concussion...but with rest and physical activity he was doing well.

The phone crackled. Checking that the area was clear, Rob sped to the clear area where he had been trying to get a signal. He dialled...someone answered...a message was relayed. It had been three months, with them venturing further and further each day to get an idea of where they were.

But they had attracted the attention of the native people as well. They came searching for the source of the signal. It was turned off by then.

Robert is unsure of what transpired in the next few days, they heard and saw two military planes, gunshots, saw smoke and terrible shouting.

But the most important fact was that they were rescued. The other members of the unit had been held prisoner, thankfully, and only the worse for wear, they were also rescued. Thanks to the bravery of the three men, the signal was used to pinpoint the location of the others who were being held for ransom.

It had been almost four months. But finally, they were going home. The families were notified.

A knock at the door. A Mother knows.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Three knocks for joy.

The knock at the door was a welcome sound. Hugs, tears, everyone talking at the same time. Joy...REUNION.

"Dad, when did you get grey hairs".

The information surrounding their ordeal was classified until a thorough investigation was completed. The three men came home as heroes and were awarded as such.

Robert received the Medal Of Honor for his bravery.