The Corpsman

The Corpsman
Dedicated to Cory Law, U.S. Navy

The Firefight was awful,
the terrible splash of blood,
as I look to my marine,
dead, eyes as dark as mud.

I hear the cry in the distance,
the scream for help I so know,
the evil cry of 'medic',
to which I shall never say no.

This is when it counts,
all that training dear,
all those sandbags carried,
my yelps no one hears.

Jumping over fallen timbers I go,
breaking into a run,
as I look up,
in the cloudy afghan sun.

My pack, once so heavy,
now seems light as a feather,
as I see the burdens others bear,
all their doubts a tether.

I see him now,
the injured soldier in such fear,
and to notice its not fatal,
I give a mighty cheer.

I drop my pack,
and rip his shirt,
reaching for my tweezers as I go,
I pull out the bullet, then clean out the dirt.

Such pleasure as healing others,
aiding those in need,
to see an injured man smile,
to help stop the bleed.
Confidence and doubt,
the two were never meant to mix,
these thoughts I think,
as I mend that in need of fix.

To see a soldier smile,
one so dangerously dear,
to see him glad,
simply knowing you are near.

That is confidence,
knowing you can bear,
that which needs bearing,
knowing that you will always care.

The doubt is from fear,
fear that you aren't quite enough,
worry you weren't quite thorough,
my man didn't make it, to whom I was not enough.

It is a parasite,
lack of faith,
it eats the soul,
leaving despair in its wake.

I stitch his wound together,
each stitch a healing balm,
the medicine of the soul,
each prayer is making calm.

I think of the others,
those defending our position,
My friends and comrades,
for whom I'd never bow in resignation.

'Move out',
the captain commands,
onto a litter the injured man goes,
his finger pointing number one, victory in his hands.

I am the Navy Corpsman,
to my battalion pledged,
I will never forfeit,
to my duty fully fledged.