Well I've been doing a lot of writing in my English and Literature courses so I thought I would share some with you, both pertaining to the army. The short story doesn't have much to do with my reasonings to join but the poem does. First the story.
You crouch in the foxhole; no where to run. Heavy enemy fire bombards you from every direction. You wish you could just leave, pick up everything and walk away unscathed, but you can't. Leave now, and you'll surely be shot. But cornering the compound is the rest of your company; they need cover fire.
Its you or your company.
"Clear this compound," the Colonel said last night, "and we'll have the Taliban in our grips. Terrorism will die with this compound."
Without cover fire, your company can't get into position.
Its you or thousands of innocent people back home.
You say a little prayer, kiss your crucifix, arm your C-7, stand up and fire. Rapidly. With each shot you see the men in your scope drop like flies.
Time stops.
Everything around you is nothing. Its you, your gun, and them. It could have been seconds, minutes, or even hours.
"You were always an excellent marksman," booms an anonymous voice.
"Where am I?" you ask. Suddenly the beige, sandy desert battlefield has been replaced with crisp, blue sky, and white, puffy clouds.
"Don't worry child," says the voice, "Its over now, thank you, you have done your part to help the least of my brothers"
"But I want to go back!" you protest into nothingness, "I haven't done anything, I want to be back there fighting!"
"Do not worry my son, it is over. You have done your mission, you alone helped your company complete their objective. And for you reward enjoy peace and happiness forever."
Theres the story, now for the poem, which emulates Tennyson's Ulysses, aka a dramatic monologue.
Sitting on the couch, watching the movie
With a crucifix draped around my neck
A sea of red covers the battlefield
Men die, men cry, men kill, for their country
Bombs explode, triggers close, tanks rumble by,
Families miles away are torn and destroyed
Because of the soldiers fighting here, whom
Sacrifice so much, to gain so much, a
Gain which they may never come to witness
For too I want to fight, for my country
Fight tyrannical rule throughout the world
I have a good life so why can’t others
With God on my side, I will fight beside
Those who view Matthew Chapter 25
As a precedence to live and die by
I have my crucifix, what’s there to fear
Sitting on the couch, watching the movie
I too decided I will fight for those
Who cannot fight for themselves, and for those
Who have seen nothing but war, I shall help
Bring peace. For there is nothing worth fighting
For more then to defend the weak and sick
Well, at least, that’s what my crucifix says
My Grandpa is overjoyed by my choice
For he once was a Lieutenant-Colonel
Serving in Egypt, Cyprus and at home
But he cannot calm my parent's worry
They'll eventually understand my choice
When they see the smiling Afghan children
With my crucifix I will soldier on.
You crouch in the foxhole; no where to run. Heavy enemy fire bombards you from every direction. You wish you could just leave, pick up everything and walk away unscathed, but you can't. Leave now, and you'll surely be shot. But cornering the compound is the rest of your company; they need cover fire.
Its you or your company.
"Clear this compound," the Colonel said last night, "and we'll have the Taliban in our grips. Terrorism will die with this compound."
Without cover fire, your company can't get into position.
Its you or thousands of innocent people back home.
You say a little prayer, kiss your crucifix, arm your C-7, stand up and fire. Rapidly. With each shot you see the men in your scope drop like flies.
Time stops.
Everything around you is nothing. Its you, your gun, and them. It could have been seconds, minutes, or even hours.
"You were always an excellent marksman," booms an anonymous voice.
"Where am I?" you ask. Suddenly the beige, sandy desert battlefield has been replaced with crisp, blue sky, and white, puffy clouds.
"Don't worry child," says the voice, "Its over now, thank you, you have done your part to help the least of my brothers"
"But I want to go back!" you protest into nothingness, "I haven't done anything, I want to be back there fighting!"
"Do not worry my son, it is over. You have done your mission, you alone helped your company complete their objective. And for you reward enjoy peace and happiness forever."
Theres the story, now for the poem, which emulates Tennyson's Ulysses, aka a dramatic monologue.
Sitting on the couch, watching the movie
With a crucifix draped around my neck
A sea of red covers the battlefield
Men die, men cry, men kill, for their country
Bombs explode, triggers close, tanks rumble by,
Families miles away are torn and destroyed
Because of the soldiers fighting here, whom
Sacrifice so much, to gain so much, a
Gain which they may never come to witness
For too I want to fight, for my country
Fight tyrannical rule throughout the world
I have a good life so why can’t others
With God on my side, I will fight beside
Those who view Matthew Chapter 25
As a precedence to live and die by
I have my crucifix, what’s there to fear
Sitting on the couch, watching the movie
I too decided I will fight for those
Who cannot fight for themselves, and for those
Who have seen nothing but war, I shall help
Bring peace. For there is nothing worth fighting
For more then to defend the weak and sick
Well, at least, that’s what my crucifix says
My Grandpa is overjoyed by my choice
For he once was a Lieutenant-Colonel
Serving in Egypt, Cyprus and at home
But he cannot calm my parent's worry
They'll eventually understand my choice
When they see the smiling Afghan children
With my crucifix I will soldier on.
