I wasn't a day older than he when I first joined Uncle Sam's plan,

And I recognized that look of fear.

It wasn't something you talked about, or even brought up,

For not in any eye would you ever see a tear.

I really wasn't much older than he, in civilian years,

But in battle years, I was now quite old and gray.

And I knew if he lived, through this battle today,

That in a few short months, he'd appear the same way.

So I drank from his youth, trying to remember the days,

As he described home from his point of view.

The newbies were refreshing, for they'de not yet forgotten,

But the sadness was, they just didn't have a clue.

I know they'de heard stories, before they ever arrived,

But then when they got here, reality set in.

They'de pile out of those trucks, with misguided thoughts,

And I'm here to single handedly win this war, grins.

I always wanted to take them and shake them,

Shake them until their youthful teeth rattled.

But I knew shortly they'de get the awful picture,

Just like this young soldier, in this continuing battle.

As the third days sunset began to sink low,

We'd still not made an inch toward the top of that hill.

And as darkness fell once more upon the eyes of war,

You began to look forward, to a peaceful still.

by: Lisa Hilbers

01/27/2003