Had hoped for an end to the fighting,
The bad dream is passed down through the ages,
The wanting to fight,
Not for poets or sages.
Takes a strong man or woman to conquer a foe,
Many die, or are wounded, Body & Soul.
Once they're safely back home, adjustment is slow,
interrupted by pain, sorrow, regret and no dough.
The shelling a whistle in their deepest dark dreams,
The waking a panic,
Checking for their limbs.
My Dad, a Marine, 91 years of age, rugged WW2 Vet,
With a heart, if you let Him run the controls,
He's in charge & his old ways are set.
His grandfather came to US as a lad,
To escape Army service, in his Prussian native land.
Dad and his brother fought in the war,
Dad told me it was nothing,
He lied now I know,
Whether fighting or training or planning for war,
War is Hell, I know you have heard it before.
To all Veterans & families, friends, neighbors & all Americans,
Be proud of our nation,
We would not be here without them.