This is a Poem that I wrote for the soldier that stood between me and the bullets in the ambush last August.
Just Doing Your Job
You stand your ground
As the bullets fly
Guarding my back
With your keen eye.
You do not falter
You do not run
As the fire fight
It has begun.
I climb in my truck
As I hear you let go
With round after round
The bullets flow.
I grab a gear
Drive into the night
And leave you there
To finish the fight.
I know not your name
Or where you are from
But a thanks to you
From my heart comes.
Just doing my job
That’s what you say
No thanks is needed
But for you I pray.
May God keep you safe
And keep you from harm
Till home again
In loving Arms.
Ambushed
As we travel these roads, a prayer to God on our lips
“Please on this night, let us have a safe trip.”
I look at the sky and see fire coming down
From in front and the sides, it’s all around
The fireworks begin, lighting our way through the night
As a voice screams out, “This can not be right.”
The bullets rain down and now one makes its mark
“I’m hit” you scream as I try to depart
Then another fly’s into the cab of the truck
I feel the burn, I know I been struck.
The pain is not long as I thought it would be
And I realize that shrapnel is all it could be.
You start to pray loudly and ask how I am.
There is blockage ahead and I prepare to ram.
The fire continues down as you look at my arm
Then I hear a voice, another has been harmed.
“Get him and get out, keep on the roll
Follow me now, I am making a hole.”
Hit one car, hit two, hit three and then four
This is not like, when ambushed before.
Everything comes into my mind so clear
As I hear the return fire, so damn near.
Keep pressing on but don’t leave them behind
Look forward, look back, please God be kind.
Find a place that is safe and tend to our injured
I know that this night will always be remembered.
Come to the medic, several times I hear,
Tend to my men first, by that time I’ll be near.
Did they all make it through and are they alright?
This only thought as my gut squeezes tight.
All others are ok and are ready to roll
So we gather what’s left and begin our stroll.
Back to base camp, to what we call home
With hope that it’s days, before again we must roam.
