1Sgt. Stahl walked across the desert's ground
Carefully stepping to not make a sound.
His troops needed waking, made ready for attack.
His gaze the kind only gotten by eating a cup of tacks.
"Sarge" a private said, "Why make such a face?"
"It's the day we've waited for, to send the enemy home in disgrace.
We've been constantly attacked, provoked and maligned,
So let's rid the earth of their despicable kind!"
"We've trained and trained for just this fight,
To destroy the animals and gain victory for Right!
So put on a smile guys, that's what I say.
Who cares about some dead Arabs anyway?"
Sarge leveled him with a cold hard stare.
"Very good private, I'll tell you why I care.
I'll tell you the story of my life,
My town, my friends, my kids and wife."
A hush fell over the group,
Nobody knew Sarge's history, not one in the troop.
Silently they sat, with rapt attention,
Waiting for him to break the tension.
"There were plenty of faces I enjoyed
Back in the days before I deployed.
Some were people who I hold dear
And others whose names are still unclear."
"Sal was a barber with a shop in town;
The guy always acted like a giant clown,
Giving me discounts without a care
Because, actually, I don't have any hair."
"Then there was the newspaper boy who came every other day
But I still gave him a tip to fatten his pay,
Mainly because I had a soft spot for the punk,
He was a miniature me: full of spunk."
"Also we had George the local priest.
Damn! He gave a great Christmas feast.
We'd head on over to eat stuffed goose,
Eating and eating til our belts hung loose."
"And it goes without saying there's my family as well,
My 3 three kids: Matt, Tommy and Belle
And my darling wife Louise,
Who, though I love her, takes so much work just to appease."
"It's because of these people I fight,
Hopefully it's given you a little insight."
The private rose surefooted and clever,
Completely convinced to silence his foes forever.
"The people Sarge knows seem great",
He thought as he quickly ate.
"Surely to defend them - a task so high
Is reason enough for our rivals to die."
After eating their dawn hour meal,
They clambered on and took to wheel.
The barreled over toward the town square,
A squadron of enemy soldiers was holed up there.
And when they arrived it was hell they raised,
Among cries of "Good God" and "Allah be praised"
This was the work for which they were paid,
Shooting their rifles and throwing grenades.
But then the private's life took a turn he did not expect
When his path and that of a young Jihadi began to intersect.
Sarge's message struck out of the blue:
This holy warrior had friends and family too.
He had his own cleric at the madrissah,
A sibling affectionately called "sissa",
Living on a street full of kind neighbors,
And others who shared his labors.
Nevertheless, he looked only once at the man's gaze
And dropped him with a shot anyways.
His aim was perfect, trained to be true,
But why he was shooting, he hadn't a clue.
Upon his return he felt depleted.
While the other reveled in victory, he was defeated.
"Why?" he demanded of Sarge, "did you tell us that story and not another?
I felt like that man I shot could have been my brother!"
Sarge weakly smiled and said, "Now you have the whole story,
You know battle is not all about guns and glory.
Hating your enemy makes it easy to kill,
And it's this that separates soldiers from murderers with skill.
"To a murderer, his victim is not but another sin;
To a soldier, it's one of his kin.
To understand your foe, while knowing he's a goner
Is what gives the job of a soldier its honor."
"A wise man once said: 'Ours is not to reason why,
Ours is but to do and die.'
I have a feeling he knew real soldiering was rough,
That to kill a comrade of sorts was tough."
"However this is how it has to be,
And not only because of political decree.
As long as the flames of conflict are kept alight,
The sons of Adam will march off to war and fight."