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Description
Called off, a duty to which he subscribed,
Shipped to a sea, and across to an objective clearly defined,
He willingly marched to each beck and call,
he survived the brutality they called training after all,
The worst part isn't the heat or constant stress,
It isn't even the uncomfortable boots or blended dress,
His head shaved down, always on alert,
The worst part is the ever calling, desolate dirt,
It calls his soul before he lands, before he finds his camp,
It readily waits to drink the blood off a fresh body, making the clay damp,
He knows the chance is slim before he steps to the front lines,
but he took the noble stride and fights for unknown lives,
He takes the gun, marching in with his brothers,
After making one last call to each of their praying mothers,
Because every man knows that if mothers had the say,
No war would ever have been fought and all the youth would stay,
Safe at home to eat and live and sleep,
but today the politicians, worry not how to weep,
For the men and women that fight their bout with unwavering valor,
They are mocked and protested, though stricken with pallor,
From fear or rot or stress or shock from the days frightful events,
Fighting enemies they have never known and hold foul intents,
Hands are forced and battles fought though who wins in the end,
both sides have casualties, but why was one my friend,
I pray to God asking the unfortunate inquary on my knees,
he fought to protect my rights but my eye looks around and sees,
All the people saying things about the men that I revere,
Saying that the soldiers are to blame for the problems there to here,
Spitting on the heroes, who grieve for those on a distant field,
who will never return home, the men who were the shield,
and calling these who returned violent pigs who kill for sport,
not knowing each of their hearts and minds are distort,
spit at those in Congress for issuing those first enticing commands,
and stop condemning the fallen and their tortured comrades at hands,
because those men like my friend who hold the stripes did nothing wrong,
so why do we fight them who wish only to make our country strong,
Instead, we should stand by our brothers, make them feel at home,
and remember they sacrificed their lives, so we can call this land our own.

Description
Called off, a duty to which he subscribed,
Shipped to a sea, and across to an objective clearly defined,
He willingly marched to each beck and call,
he survived the brutality they called training after all,
The worst part isn't the heat or constant stress,
It isn't even the uncomfortable boots or blended dress,
His head shaved down, always on alert,
The worst part is the ever calling, desolate dirt,
It calls his soul before he lands, before he finds his camp,
It readily waits to drink the blood off a fresh body, making the clay damp,
He knows the chance is slim before he steps to the front lines,
but he took the noble stride and fights for unknown lives,
He takes the gun, marching in with his brothers,
After making one last call to each of their praying mothers,
Because every man knows that if mothers had the say,
No war would ever have been fought and all the youth would stay,
Safe at home to eat and live and sleep,
but today the politicians, worry not how to weep,
For the men and women that fight their bout with unwavering valor,
They are mocked and protested, though stricken with pallor,
From fear or rot or stress or shock from the days frightful events,
Fighting enemies they have never known and hold foul intents,
Hands are forced and battles fought though who wins in the end,
both sides have casualties, but why was one my friend,
I pray to God asking the unfortunate inquary on my knees,
he fought to protect my rights but my eye looks around and sees,
All the people saying things about the men that I revere,
Saying that the soldiers are to blame for the problems there to here,
Spitting on the heroes, who grieve for those on a distant field,
who will never return home, the men who were the shield,
and calling these who returned violent pigs who kill for sport,
not knowing each of their hearts and minds are distort,
spit at those in Congress for issuing those first enticing commands,
and stop condemning the fallen and their tortured comrades at hands,
because those men like my friend who hold the stripes did nothing wrong,
so why do we fight them who wish only to make our country strong,
Instead, we should stand by our brothers, make them feel at home,
and remember they sacrificed their lives, so we can call this land our own.