They all were "somebody's"

The lead ball burned through wool and skin

and tore through femur like a rocket—

the man in blue dropped to the ground

his moaning blending with the sounds

of cannon fire, artillery,

of shouting coming through the trees.

His thoughts turned inward to his home

back to the girl he left behind

he wondered if she’d ever read

the letter folded in his pocket;

but in the end, he'd stood his ground

that no man should be shackle-bound.

The trench lay deep, the stench was rife

the smell was worse than rotting fish—

of death, decay and spoiled meat,

of wounded holding onto life.

The damp chill cut them to the bone

it seemed there was no end in sight

but for a moment, time stood still,

as song arose this Christmas morn.

Out on the field, the firing ceased

as both sides lay their weapons down,

they shared the images of home

with differences now set aside

inside this momentary peace.

Flying low and taking flak

the bomber flew a steady course

another mission lay ahead…

while Red Tails flew as his escort.

As Mustangs chased the Messerschmitts

the bombardier searched for his mark—

the target bridge lay in his sites

he opened bay, released the load

then turned the plane to take it home.

Few casualties were lost this run

their mission for the day complete

still many more would lie ahead,

till enemy would take defeat.

Deep in the jungle far from home

they hacked their way through undergrowth

so thick that they could barely see.

Their wet clothes clung to them like glue,

while searching for the enemy.

With every yard that these troops gained
another skirmish would ensue.

The bloodshed reigned on nightly news

while protestors took to the streets—

and politicians played their part

claiming that they could defeat

the enemy on their own turf.

How could they justify the cost

of all the sons that would be lost?

The arid lands were dry and hot

with rocky hills and desert plains

and far beyond, the mountain range.

Against a new insurgency

our soldiers sent to do their job

to keep this enemy at bay,

to find some kind of lasting peace.

Out on the road the humvee stops,

a man steps out to scan the land…

the sniper waits and takes the shot,

another soldier’s life is claimed.

Another wartime casualty

the flag draped coffin boards the plane,

returning home to family,

while duty-bound, his troops remain.

The never-ending battle roars

right side, wrong side, enemies…

yet all these folks were somebody’s

brother, sister, husband, friend.

As long as we remember them,

keep their memory, say their name

not just one day, but every day

if in our hearts they still remain,

their lives were never lost in vain.

© Ginny Brannan 2018