To Be A Hero of Men by silverpen

A footstep forward in the pouring rain,
Another step toward a world of pain,
A steaming hot barrel and a bullet in a shell,
A finally farewell as he dips into hell.
Adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins,
Our enemy is here, another friend is slain.
Hard to talk about when he gets back home,
A frown and a pout is all he can show.
As he sits in his chair remembering those days,
His son comes in there with a smile on his face,
Hair washed clean with a tie and a bow,
Looking tough and mean and ready to go.
Now a call to arms as the memories flood in,
He watches that troop ship leave port again,
And with a tear down his face he waves to his son,
Keeping up pace with the boat as he runs,
He can feel it in his gut and hear it in the wind,
His son might never come home again.
A skip in generations and to modern time,
His son has expectations that he knows he'll find,
Twisting in his seat and twirling his gun,
Sweating in the heat and squinting in the sun.
He rides in the truck with his mind going wild,
Relying on luck and his sharp witted guile,
Then the gunfire starts and the enemies flood,
He has a painful beating heart and electric blood.
Swallowing his fear he leaps into the fight,
Watching in tears as his best friend dies,
And as he turns around in misery,
He falls to the ground in agony,
Hand clutching at the bleeding bullet wound,
He says his goodbyes; he'll leave this world soon.
So back home at the place he used to live,
Father covering his face, a thousand tears to give,
Mother waves as her son goes down,
A darkened sun put into the ground.
Their baby boy's gone, now what will they do,
It feels so long since they could smile too.
As he's peeling pea pods and sipping his tea,
Father thanks God for his memories,
And though his son is lost to the grave,
He'll always be remembered as loyal, strong, brave,
And his legacy will never give in,
As a U.S. soldier, a hero to men.