On Veterans Day A poem a soldier wrote on the death of another man

“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.” -John Fitzgerald Kennedy

“I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, ‘Mother, what was war?'” -Eve Merriam

This is one of the most touching poems you will read about the anguish any soldier or person inflicts upon himself when in war, when he causes the death of another. Being as I was Iraq/Somalia and Kosovo as a US Army Special Forces soldier this was a reality and a fear that we all held. I remember vividly like it was yesterday seeing a soldier blown to pieces 20 yds from me.

I pray everyday I will never have to embrace this kind of horror again, but I stood ready as we trained to. I know a lot of men and woman who have had to learn to live with the same memories portrayed in this poem, it horrifying, and a very difficult process helping them through it. Some of my friends will never recover. Every person you injure..every person who lost his life by something you did, or did not do, stays with you. The desktop warriors that frequent the internet are irrelevant.

Only the crazy love War.

It things like this that show there is hope though, he had mountains he had to overcome and concur, but he still lived a wonderful life. This poem has left me nearly speechless but I want to thank the family for publishing it, as I foresee this touching a lot of people, not only soldiers but civilians alike, and here is to the man who wrote it ! As he served his country proud! I salute him!

I shot a man yesterday
And much to my surprise,
The strangest thing happened to me
I began to cry.

He was so young, so very young
And Fear was in his eyes,
He had left his home in Germany
And came to Holland to die.

And what about his Family
were they not praying for him?
Thank God they couldn’t see their son
And the man who had murdered him.

I knelt beside him
And held his hand–
I begged his forgiveness
Did he understand?

It was the War
And he was the enemy
If I hadn’t shot him
He would have shot me.

I saw he was dying
And I called him “Brother”
But he gasped out one word
And that word was “Mother.”

I shot a man yesterday
And much to surprise
A part of me died with Him
When Death came to close
His eyes.

At the end of the Korean War Eisenhower said:
Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. The world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children…. This is not a way of life at all, in any true sense.
Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from an iron cross.

This is not a way of life

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