We were shooting the breeze as guys tend to do,
when a disruptive silence intruded
that put us on edge.
Then Jim Boy entered into our midst,
and looking grim and disheveled,
announced the bad news,
that in a dusty action on a dusty plain,
by the remains of a decaying village,
Jim Boy had been blown up.
In combat (hand to hand or at sniper range)
You can be maimed more times than you're slain.
So let's rejoice for what's left survival.
Williams (who's good with words) said it right:
It's not becoming of veterans to cry like raw recruits.
Unending wakes dishonor the fallen.
Let us march forward, then, in the soldiers ballad,
the glory, gory mix of camaraderie, medals and ribbon
and spent munitions.
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