WOUNDED IN BATTLE

WOUNDED IN BATTLE

In full gear, I lifted the canteen to my chapped lips,
drinking deeply; the sun blazing down on the earth.
I can still remember thinking "What am I doing here
and just what is all this playing soldier really worth?"

Down in Mississippi, the weather gets really warm
and we're in training from morning until late at night;
the orders came in and it was plain enough to see
that we were heading out for a God-awful big fight.

We landed in Kuwait, a few miles from the border,
more training, "don't go anywhere without your gun!"
It was about then that I started to worry a little more
if my mother would ever again see her young son.

We crossed the border in a battered old Humvee
that had been reinforced with armor for safety's sake,
a long tan line of trucks, fuel tankers and humvees
with the enemy forces soon firing fast in our wake.

We reached our base camp without a major event,
still, we would rather have been anywhere but there;
Home seemed to be foremost in all our thoughts
and never before was it thought of as so very dear.

Settling in as best we could and trying to sleep
as the tracers continued to light up the night sky;
Two of our buddies had been killed just yesterday
and more than one man was not ashamed to cry.

The fighting was fierce and both sides lost men,
the destruction was much more than I could bear;
When a bullet slammed hard into my chest I knew
that I would die without getting some urgent care.

A medic stood over me, and with a big grin,
said "now don't you worry too much, son";
"We'll get you patched up in no time at all,
'cause now we've got those guys on the run!"

They loaded me on a chopper and then set out
to a combat hospital where we first get to go,
where they would patch us up enough to survive
a trip to another hospital; it's those guys I owe!

Wounded in battle, you'd think I would learn,
but I had my heart set on returning to the fight;
These were my brothers, and I won't go home
until we all can leave together, that's only right!

Our tour of duty is now finally over, I'm told.
we'll soon be on our way back home!
The good we've done may be remembered
(or not) long after we go on alone.

Countrymom
8/28/06

Poetry in the Traditional (rhyming) style -