Written by my cousin, Crowell Christopher S SGT 303rd MI BN CASE, serving his 2nd term in Iraq.
I see my mother clearly sob,
Meek and mild of manner,
Humble home and kitchen hob,
Her private country manor.
I see her do her household chores,
And teach us all to pray,
Help us with our ups and downs,
And guide us on our way.
I see her warm and gentle smile,
The greyness in her hair,
Sitting in her favourite chair,
Wishing I was there.
I see her soft and kindly ways,
Should I come home in glory,
Sit with her in twilight days,
Relate to her my story.
I awake.
Dawn breaks, my mind aches,
Home thoughts from abroad,
I feel a dagger in my heart,
Cutting out the inner part
That harbours deep emotion,
It carves the memories into slices
And serves-up deep devotion.
Allegiance to my two great loves,
My family and my country.
Decisions I have had to take,
I cannot turn my back,
One foot in my homeland,
The other in Iraq.
While comrades' rest in peaceful sleep,
I take my daily mental leap,
My weapon I have set aside,
To pen some thoughts upon my stride,
Through God forsaken countryside.
I hope that when this war is won,
A pen and scribe will be my gun,
Then maybe I can do my part,
Deliver reason from the heart.
In scouring sandy no-man's land,
I must consider sleight of hand,
Is this where we were meant to be,
So long after victory?
The din of rapid rifle rattle,
Constantly reminds of battle,
Mind immersed in deep reflection,
Know this war has caused reaction,
Far beyond the fighting faction.
But we are soldiers, faithful servants,
Give us orders, we observe them.
The men I lead,
Must feel the need,
To see their duty rendered,
Death before dishonour-still,
Remains their loyal tender.
We lost a comrade yesterday,
A bullet in the head,
From out of nowhere sniper fire,
In minutes he was dead.
Our thoughts must go to soldiers' homes,
Those left lost and weeping,
The one who dies is laid to rest,
The others' wounds keep bleeding.
It's this that burns us up inside,
We're still the proud, the brave,
But sometimes feel we're treated more,
Like politicians' slaves.
Not for us the sweet delights,
Of nomination platform,
We're here to serve, protect the rights,
Our fathers fought and died for.
But fact remains, we can't ignore,
The price of lives for hire,
Is getting steeper all the time,
In Middle-Eastern mire.
My valiant band of brothers stir,
For combat now, we must prepare,
But in the course of your demands,
Remember if you can,
The 'Semper Fi' in all who lie,
In battlefields tonight,
To offer up their lives and die,
Their homelands to protect.
And we will soldier on-we must,
To face our mortal foe,
Morale is high, in God We Trust,
We bring our prayers to heaven,
And hope that God still hears our plea,
Remember 9-11.
So rest my kind and gentle mother,
Life's not how it seems,
Keep the home fires burning bright,
I'll see you in my dreams.
