Soldier

We stand hidden
In the mountains and valleys
In the deserts and jungles
We stand hidden

We stand ready
To guard and repel
To defend and attack
Ready to kill and to die
We stand ready

You watch us and hate
You set flames to that which we love
You spit at our feet and curse our home
You make our hearts bleed

But we wait
With tears in our eyes we wait
We wait for the wolf to try to hurt our herd

And when he comes, we come too
We throw ourselves before his vicious teeth
With pride and courage
With strength and honor
With love towards you, we willingly die

We die for what you hold dear
For your rights and freedoms, we give up ours
For your liberty and life, we give up ours

We are soldiers
We stand hidden all around you
We stand ready to die for you
We watch you hurt us
And we wait to protect you
We do this because we love you, and love what you hold dear

We are soldiers

Pvt. Burgess ARNG

"The sergeant is the Army." - General Dwight D. Eisenhower

RJ - SCOUTS OUT!

The soldiers that slept in the rain. 

We were the soldiers that slept in the rain,
and froze in the wind-driven snow.
Silent, we prowled in hostile terrain
in search and in fear of our foe.
Longing to light up just one cigarette,
we shivered like dogs through the night.
Hungry and wet, exhausted, and yet
we rose and moved out at first light.

We were the troopers who humped up the hills
and crept through the valleys of death.
With ninety-pound rucks straining bodies and wills,
we sweated and struggled for breath.
Moving in darkness through swamps foul and deep,
we burned off the leeches at dawn.
In hellholes and jungles that still haunt our sleep,
we shook ourselves off and drove on.

We were the few, barely one out of ten,
who carried the tools of our trade,
who took our objectives again and again
with bayonet, gun and grenade.
Crawling and climbing, we broke through the lines
and did what our calling demands:
We killed without quarter, with rifles and mines,
and sometimes we killed with our hands.

We were all colors, but only one race,
with none but each other to trust.
We watched our buddies stare death in the face,
and we wept as they died in the dust.
Some say we battled for freedom and God,
and some think we fought for a flag,
but mostly we fought for the guys in our squad
and the boys that came home in a bag.

We were the infantry, haggard and gray,
too brave for our good and too loyal,
charging the beaches and hills far away
and bleeding on alien soil.
We were your children, your brothers and sons,
sent to be baptized by fire.
We were the ones who were manning the guns
when your enemy came through the wire.

We weren't your finest, the cream of your crop,
and we didn't parade very well.
But we were the boys who went over the top
and carried your flag into hell.
We were the infantry, foolish and bold,
and now just our stories remain-
the bastards who fought in the heat and the cold,
who bled and who died in the rain.

Andy Ladak   April 11, 2001

"American Parachutists...devils in baggy pants...are less than 100 meters from my outpost line. I can't sleep at night; they pop up from nowhere and we never know when or how they will strike next. Seems like the black-hearted devils are everywhere..."
(An entry in a German officer's diary found after the Battle of Anzio)

All the way, sir!!!