The soldier stood there, on the alert,
Watching every movement, rifle in his hand.
He had left his home and family,
To serve his country in this strange land.

 
Was it right or wrong to be here?
This question he did often of himself ask.
But he was a soldier, committed to serve,
And this was his duty’s task. 

He did not understand the language they spoke,
Their customs were even stranger.
To many here he was unwelcome,
His life was always in danger. 

He prayed each day to his Heavenly Father-
That the day would bring him no harm,
That he would not lose his nerve,
As he stood there, rifle in his arm. 

He hoped that one day this torn nation-
Would come to be his nation’s friend,
That there would be an end to the hate,
And this war would soon end. 

He was a child’s father, a woman’s husband,
He was a dad and mom’s dear son.
He was a Christian, victorious over Satan,
That battle had long ago been won. 

Maybe tomorrow he would go home-
Or perhaps today he would go to his grave.
He was prepared, God held his future-
For the moment he must be brave. 

Copyright © 2006 Thomas E. Kittrell

 Graphics courtesy of:  http://www.cybergifs.com