Khaberni - The field is a witness, the soil knows the steps, and the mountains keep the names of men. Here hearts are tested, and here the nation places its true test, where men stand facing themselves before facing the enemy.
In this place, His Majesty King Abdullah II, the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces, stood among men who served with him in the special forces. The meeting was not just a formality but a return to memory and to the land that knows him and which he knows, and to the hours that pass as heavily as mountains.
The leader looked at the faces that shared his path, faces on which the sun had drawn lines of patience and the night had cast shadows of fatigue. Men who know what it means to carry the nation on their shoulders, to sleep while guarding its dream and future, and to wake up protecting its borders.
The commander's smile was genuine, spontaneous, and deeper than any speech, silently telling them, "You are men of the field, and I am one of you," and the field speaks and memories speak, and the beauty of memories is in preserving details.
The soldiers remembered their first steps in the trenches, the sound of orders, the crunch of rocks under their boots, the silence that precedes engagement, and the certainty that united them with their leader among them, not behind them—a man who knows the value of a soldier and what it means to stand alone in the darkness, carrying the responsibility of an entire nation in your heart.
Indeed, your fortune, soldiers, was greater than ours; we did not serve among the heroes of the field. You know the soil, the rocks, the dust, you know the soldier King closely, and you know what it means to have a leader as a companion on the journey.
Your meeting was a renewal of memory, preserving the national narrative, and it was a summoning of manhood in its purest form, a reminder that honor cannot be bought, loyalty does not fade, and those who have stood in the field once will never leave it, even if they remove the military uniform.
When the King Commander reached out his hand to his men, each felt that all the years were encapsulated in that handshake, and that the field does not die, the old steps pound their memories in the heart, and the voice of the nation in the field is present.
For the field is a school that teaches you patience and resilience when the earth trembles, and it teaches you the difference between a man who leads and a man who advances; for the true leader, as the men know him, is the one who walks on the same soil they walked on.
Thus remains the meeting, and so remains the memory, men and a leader brought together by the field, creating a bond that time cannot sever.
