A Forgotten Eulogy (a short story)

Very recently, I lost two of my best friends. I attended their funerals only yesterday. They were buried at sea, with full honors, as all naval war heros should be. They performed their duties professionally, gracefully, never with complaint, and always with dignity. They were counted on every day of their short military lives and frequently taken for granted. Their duties were small nameless ones, and their work hard, tiresome and demanding. If asked, almost any service member would tell you; the military would suffer greatly, if not cease to function entirely, without the several tasks my two friends and many others perform thanklessly.
My friends and I had been through a lot together. We have traveled the world together, worked together, and played together. We climbed the high mountain peaks of Marseilles, France to gaze upon the beautiful French countryside and encompassing blue waters of the French Riviera. We've walked for miles across the desert plains of Nevada exploring the many small miracles of the desert terrain, and admiring it's delicate natural balance and cold indifference to the rest of the world. We have been together during some very trying times, both emotionally and physically. We've worked on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier in freezing rain, gale force winds, and unbearable heat, never giving up. My friends never complained (although I did on occasion, and sometimes still do). Once, we even went skiing on the tall , snowy, white mountain slopes of Lake Tahoe. This was our first, and only, time ever snow skiing, so I remember it very well.
I remember one time in particular when my friends and I went to a heavy metal concert. We all took quite a bit of abuse, but if not for them I would have taken much more. I had a much better time than I expected. They still had a few scars from that night, even as they were so sadly laid to rest yesterday. I can't believe they are truly gone forever. A part of me will always be with them, even as they lay at the bottom of the vast, cold expanses of King Neptune's watery graveyard in silence.
In retrospect, I can now see that my friends were doomed to their fates, just as their replacements will surely follow their footsteps into oblivion. Replacements? Of course there are replacements, as is the way of the military. They were not replaced by me as friends, although I will surely befriend them as time goes by. No, they were chosen by the military to carry on the duties abandoned by my old friends in their hasty departure. To "fill their shoes," if you will.
Some of my less tangible friends tell me that my loss is "insubstantial" and the new replacements will "do just fine." They don't see the significance of my dilemma. I will miss my friends, even if they were just an old worn out pair of flight-deck boots. Those old boots and I have been through a lot together and it was sad to see them go. Besides, the new ones hurt my feet.

I wrote this in October, 1991
This is its first publishing