The old button was finally laid to rest. Put in the Jar with the other old soldiers to rest and relax. Relax, but always be ready to replace a fallen or broken button. A blue button's duty was never done. Be it at parade or on the field. If the buttons didn't hold up, the army would never hold together.

The Blue Button couldn't help but remember the old times. It had seen a lot. Three wars, three men. All returned home safe. A button was normally so overlooked. But this button, this Blue Button knew it's duty. It would stand strong. Like men, this button had a lineage to make proud. A lineage of generals, of heroes and saviors. Of martyrs and men of unyielding will. A lineage of buttons that held all those men up upon their backs, even if the men didn't realize it.

The Blue Button remembered it's first man. He was general. The Blue Button was commissioned just for this man. A sigil carved into its very body and soul. It was a hard war. The man lead thousands upon thousands of men to their death, and it tore the man apart. He stood on the frontlines, chest held high, with the Blue Button on the top rung, sigil shown proudly to the world. A sniper took the shot at the man. But the button knew it's duty. It threw itself in front of the bullet, ready to do it's a duty. It managed to deflect the bullet and save the man's life but took great damage in the prosses.

After that battle, the Blue Button was put in the Jar. It thought its job was done, duty complete. But that was only the start of its journey. The sigil carved upon the Blue Button was still visible, shining in the firelight like gold polished to perfection.

There was a second war. Much like the first, yet so different. The second man didn't wear the button. The Blue button was too broken for that. Instead, it served a different purpose. The sigil carved upon it's body and soul shone like the sun after walking in darkness for eternity. Its duty was to guard letters, given from one man to another. The homeland had fallen, but it's people had not. The Blue Button repressed that will. The unbroken, unyielding will of that Button inspired men. They looked upon the sigil carved upon the Blue Button and remembered who they were. They whispered of the General who stood upon the hill, who charged with his men. Who gave his life for them.

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The Blue Button didn't know the man had died. The Blue button had saved him from one war, only for the man to die in a second. But now, he had another man to protect. The Generals son. One time, the son was caught. They tried to take the letter, but the son had thrown it away moments before he was caught. But he couldn't throw the Blue Button. The Button thought the son was a fool, but he wouldn't allow the boy to be caught here. Through sheer force of will, the button changed. It lost its luster, it became dull and rusted. The boy was amazed, but the enemy merely thought it an old memento. The sigil never shone as brightly as before during that war. To shine too brightly was a danger in itself.

Finally, after what seemed like ages to a small Blue Button, the war ended. The Button was returned to the Jar. This time, the Jar moved. It traveled long and far, without seeing anything. The other Buttons made a ruckus, being thrown about like a toddler playing with toys. But the Blue Button held it's proverbial tongue. It was a soldier. It had seen and been though worse.

Finally, one last time, the button was pulled out of the jar. This time, the man was different. He looked so much like the General. So much like the Son. Though the hole the bullet made, a string was sown. Around the neck of this man the button laid. As the third man went through training, he was made fun of. He kept and old Blue Button regardless of what was said, but little did the man know, the Blue Button lent the man It's strength. A will of iron, just like what the Blue Button was made of.

The battlefield this time was different. Forrest surrounded everywhere. Enemies hid in trees and bushes. Traps were behind every rock. The button didn't know how to help, but every time the man ran his hand over it, the Blue Button gave him the iron will of the two men before him. Even if it was just this, the Blue Button knew it's duty.

That was when it finally happened. Everyone was looking left. The enemy was to the right. The button saw, but no one else did. With the last of its will, the button shone. It shone like it was new. It shone like it had just gotten the best polishing in the world. The light filtering through the leaves reflected off this shine and blinded the man. That small tilt of his head from being blinded saved his life as a bullet took off his ear.

The Blue Button knew it's duty. It was the Button of a General, leading thousands of men. It was the Button of a freedom-fighter, protecting his home in the only way he knew how. It was the Button of a man fighting for the freedom of others. For now, this button was to be put back in the Jar. But it knew it's time had yet to finish. There would be more young men that needed protection. The sigil still stood strong.