6:00AM:
I rise with dew on my clothes.
Silently stretching, looking about,
wiping the frost from my nose.

Soon it will be morning fires,
coffee bacon and beans.

The latter will bring a steady march
towards a line seldom seen.

I know it is there for I saw it once.
Not two battles from here.

I saw the cannons.
I felt the charge.
Yet heard not once sound clear.

I survived that day with just a scratch.
Praise be to God.

Though honestly still I feel my arm, lost.
How very odd.

My Sergeant ribs me;
"That's better now. Less of you to feed."

Though not as handsome,
a pistol's grip,
is easier to bare indeed.

A week had passed.
I had thought me through.
Surely to see no more.

Not to be.
For here I am.
One rank higher than before.

Every field.
Every forest.
Every mountaintop.

I swear I see the gleaming steel,.
of Death Angle's harvest crop.

I've been on the march.
I've been on the run.
I've sat there laying siege.

I've laughed with others.
I've cried alone. . .

Much was invested in four long years,
all to help decide.

Yet not one weapon have they devised
that can kill a soldiers pride.

When will this end?
I know not now,
nor do I dare to say.

For all thought I've left is spent in sleep.
The rest for when I pray.

Then came the moment we marched on them.
Yet not one round was spent.

Weapons were racked.
Flags were packed.
Then we all turned around and went.

Walking home I felt the tears,
That would no longer wait.

Once again,
at least for now.
The re-united states.

Bey:\>
February 7, 94