My father was a World War II veteran who landed overseas on Oct. 6, 1942, two days before I was born. When he died at age 87, almost nine years ago, I found the following poem in his personal papers. It was written by an unnamed soldier during that war, but it still speaks to my heart today. The soldier closed with a prayer which all of us should pray from time to time.
A Solider Speaks
So you’re sick of the way the country’s run,
And you’re sick of the way the rationing’s done,
And you’re sick of standing around in a line.
You’re sick, you say – well, that’s just fine.
So am I sick of the sun and the heat,
And I’m sick of the feel of my aching feet,
And I’m sick of the mud and jungle flies,
And I’m sick of the stench when the night mists rise,
And I’m sick of the siren’s wailing shriek,
And I’m sick of the groans of the wounded and weak,
And I’m sick of the sound of the bomber’s dive,
And I’m sick of seeing the dead alive,
And I’m sick of the roar and the noise and the din,
And I’m sick of the taste of food from a tin,
And I’m sick of the slaughter – I’m sick to my soul.
I’m sick of playing a killer’s role.
I’m sick of blood and of death and the small,
And I’m even sick of myself as well,
But I’m sicker still of a tyrant’s rule
And conquered lands where the wild beasts drool,
And I’m cured darn quick when I think of the day
When all this hell will be out of the way,
When none of this mess will have been in vain,
And the lights of the world will blaze again,
And things will be as they were before,
And kids will laugh in the streets once more,
And the Axis’ flags will be dipped and furled.
And God looks down on a peaceful world.
Dear Lord
Lest I continue
My complacent way;
Help me to remember
Somewhere out there
A man died for me today.
As long as there be war
I then must
Ask and answer
Am I worth dying for?
Think on these things.
Nora Lee Copeland
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