I met him on the front lines,
Of a place a lot like hell.
For weeks we walked together,
And I came to know him well.
He told me of you all back home,
Of the little farm you’ve bought.
Said his family and his freedom,
Were the reasons that he fought.
He said I hate we have to be here,
But sometimes you have to stand.
For things that are important,
Like your freedom and your land.
Then one day in heavy battle,
He turned to me and cried.
My friend if I don’t make it,
Will you tell my folks I tried.
So it falls to me to tell you,
That his fighting days are done.
He was a soldier to the end,
But he’ll always be your son.
Although this wars not over yet,
Please know he did his part.
And I’ll keep him in my memory,
The way he kept you in his heart.
by George Goodwin
