When duty's call is war's call,
Through me and other soldiers,
The nation must stand tall,
I look into my three year old's quizzical eyes,
Fumbling in my thoughts,
Stammering in my words,
Vainly trying to make her understand,
What daddy is about to do,
The risky escapade I am about to embark on,
Then I look into my wife's anxious eyes,
She understands but cannot accept,
As I hug them both trying to be strong,
As their sobs reach my ears,
And their tears wet my uniform,
I melt like butter before an approaching flame,
Emotional meltdown,
Then I seize myself in denial,
Rushing to the plane,
Many questions on my mind,
Who sent me to be a soldier?
I was not drafted,
This is a choice I made,
What motivated me?
Was it the money and the glory?
Was it mere love for the uniform?
Is it sheer love for my country?
As I continued to embrace my thoughts,
Even as I said my byes,
Praying I would return before I die,
It dawned on me the real reason I am a soldier,
It is for my daughter and my wife,
My family and my friends,
My loved ones,
My beloved country,
I know especially when that national anthem plays,
My country seizes and owns me,
Maybe these are the lies I tell myself,
Hoping all these noble reasons will ease the pain,
As I told my wife we'll see when I'am back,
I knew there's a real chance I'll be shot dead before I do,
I leave behind family, friends and the comfort of home,
Marching forward to the front lines of fire,
All the while bringing with me,
My life and my strength and courage,
Imploring the almighty to be my guard and guide,
As I face the whizzing of bullets,
The whistling of brutal winds,
The glow of enemy fire,
The deafening din of fatal volleys from the other camp,
The panic and constant threat of death,
Staring me in the face with every passing moment,
The thought of my little girl growing up without me makes it worse,
The weight of ammunition and armor on my body,
The trenchant shellacking from a merciless winter,
Fighting a war at many fronts,
Physically, emotionally, spiritually,
Occasional temptation from beautiful civilians in the zone,
The grueling pain of watching a comrade fall in combat,
The scars of trauma from just being there,
Causing the enemy's fall and watching comrades fall,
The sheer dilemma of saving life by taking away life,
The battles of moral justification between philosophies of war,
The mental battles are the most grueling,
As people die like flies,
Others disabled and maimed for life,
Oh the scars of living through this,
Accrued unpaid debt of sleep,
Going through every moment hoping the next will come,
And if is it doesn't,
Ah that killing thought,
That thought which kills me every moment,
Many times before death ever comes,
But if the next moment never comes,
I pray that it would have been a worthy expenditure of a life,
That God almighty will have me in his bosom,
And watch over my comrades and loved ones,
This is part of the soldiers sacrifice.
Brussels © March 2015 afesehngwaHilary
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