We have been in the process of sorting through the detritus of my parents-in-law: lots of junk, no longer meaningful to anyone, but occasionally the striking this or that suggestive of a parent’s love, a freakish endeavor, or long afternoons of timeless play. This last mood was suggested by my father-in-law’s tub of tin soldiers.

There are nine intact pieces, missing no limbs or helmets, though little of the original paint shows through:

Most surprising among them is this lonesome cowboy, who must have been surprised as he wandered in from the prairies into the fearsome trenches:

And I can only imagine this Texan’s horror as he came across the body parts strewn across the fields:

But medical attention was available, for those who could still benefit from it:

Sadly, for me, the bicyclist’s broken wheel rendered him pretty much useless:

I’m sure Gerry had a lot of fun setting these guys up into various scenarios, and though I feel some regret that more of the pieces aren’t intact, I’d like to believe that they were played with thoroughly, which would mean they each did their duty.