Our Protectors

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Grim Soldier

In the dark, foreboding dawn, a grim soldier stands alone.
He does not move, not even blink, he seems to be made of stone.

His duty he knows very well, knows what must be done.
And so he greets his day of death, as he greets the rising sun.

Grim soldier marches, shoulders high, with even gait on a dusty road.
The blasted plains are brown and dead, devoid of trees or simple abode.

The battle will be long and fierce, he must be strong to survive.
But grim soldier knows the truth, that he won't come back alive.

He'll follow the rules as best he can, though it will mean great pain.
And he will lie dying in the stifling dusk, alone on the hard terrain.

O soldier, you are noble, for you'll due your honor due.
You put yourself in gracious second, letting your duty lead you true.

As day comes, many shots will fly, and many times he'll fall.
But he'll rise, pained and bloodied, and keep marching through it all.

And when that damned day finally ends, it could be that he might die.
But he's just one lone soldier, so no soulful hearts will cry.

Imagine the strength that it must take, to face one's death with no fear.
Grim soldier, though small, is mighty; and waits for his foes to appear.

Others under such a burden, would surely fall to their knees.
But he is strong in his resolve, indifferent to the danger he sees.

O, he'll be ever in walking, in his gallent crusade.
And though noble in his fearless valor, his fate he cannot evade.

To this destiny, grim soldier is resigned, and will follow it until its end.
His road, being long and rocky, holds ambush at every bend.

So in the gray and ominous dawn, grim soldier fades away.
Without a word or glance, he starts, towards the end of his long day.

He was getting old and paunchy And his hair was falling fast, And he sat around the Legion, Telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought in And the deeds that he had done. In his exploits with his buddies; They were heroes, everyone.
And 'tho sometimes, to his neighbors, His tales became a joke, All his buddies listened, For they knew whereof he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no longer, For ol' Bob has passed away, And the world's a little poorer, For a soldier died today.
He won't be mourned by many, Just his children and his wife. For he lived an ordinary, Very quiet sort of life.
He held a job and raised a family, Quietly going on his way, And the world won't note his passing; 'tho a Soldier died today.
When politicians leave this earth, Their bodies lie in state, While thousands note their passing, And proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories, From the time that they were young, But the passing of a soldier, Goes unnoticed and unsung.
Is the greatest contribution, To the welfare of our land, Some jerk who breaks his promise, And cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow, Who in times of war and strife, Goes off to serve his Country And offers up his life?
The politician's stipend And the style in which he lives, Are sometimes disproportionate, To the service that he gives.
While the ordinary soldier, Who offered up his all, Is paid off with a medal And perhaps a pension, small.
It's so easy to forget them, For it is so long ago, That our Bob's and Jim's and Johnny's, Went to battle, but we know.
It was not the politicians, With their compromise and ploys, Who won for us the freedom, That our Country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger, With your enemies at hand, Would you really want some cop-out, With his ever waffling stand?
Or would you want a Soldier, Who has sworn to defend, His home, his kin, and Country, And would fight until the end?
He was just a common Soldier And his ranks are growing thin, But his presence should remind us, We may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflick, Then we find the Soldier's part, Is to clean up all the troubles, That the politicians start.
If we cannot do him honor, While he's here to hear the praise, Then at least let's give him homage, At the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline, In the paper that might say: "OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING, FOR A SOLDIER DIED TODAY"

Loving a Sailor is not always gay,
Loving him truly is a high price to pay.
Its being alone with nothing to hold,
its being young but feeling so old,
Its having him whisper his love for you,
its whispering back you love him 86 plus two.
There comes a kiss and a promise of more
as his ship slowly glides away from the shore.
Reluctantly, painfully, letting him go,
while you're dying inside for wanting him so.
Watching him leave with eyes full of tears,
standing alone with your hopes, dreams and fears.
Its sending a letter with the stamp upside down
to your far-away love in a far-away town.
Its going to church to kneel and to pray,
and really meaning the things that you say.
Being in love will foster your dreams
of that far-away sailor your mind fairly beams.
Days go by, no mail for a spell,
you wait for some words to hear that he's well.
Then a letter arrives and you're given in,
to open his letter and smile with a grin.
Yes, he is well and misses you so,
and is filled with the love you want to know.
Weeks are like months and months are like years,
you wait for the day when you'll have no more fears.
Days go by slowly, how many have passed?
Then suddenly you realize its here at last!
Yes, loving a sailor brings bitterness and fears,
loneliness and sadness and despondent years.
Loving a Sailor isn't much fun
but its worth the price when the battle is won.
And remember he's thinking of you every day,
he's sad and he's lonely while so far away.
So love him and miss him and hold your head high,
Be strong and have faith, wipe that tear from your eye.
Your man's a seafarer, like that old ancient trader,
It's a high price you pay for loving a Sailor.
Written By:
Captain 'O.W.' Wright, USN
© 2 Jan 1991
USS Theodore Roosevelt · Desert Storm

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