# For the Unknown Soldiers...



## HKphooey (May 25, 2007)

*For those soldiers whose names will not make the news or any public memorial walls...*

:asian:

I came across this poem....

*&#8220;A Soldier's Prayer&#8221;*
(Larry Walker, Tommy Oliver)

One hot desert morning at dawn's early light
While trudging through the sand
I found a piece of paper
Clutched in a young man's hand

And upon that paper the words he wrote
Were not filled with despair
Just thoughts from the heart of a brave young lad
He called it, &#8220;A Soldier's Prayer&#8221;

I took the paper from his hand and read it aloud...

Will there be a place in heaven
For a person such as me
Who, through youth and the love for life
Isn't all you'd have me be?

I've been a man but a short time now
And I'll ask you this, if I might
Isn't fighting for freedom's cause
A fight that's always right?

The men I've killed, some things I've done
Are not things I've wanted to do
But a job I believe had to be done
By we who believe in you

I had those thoughts upon my mind
When I heard that deadly sound
Then, all around me, one by one
My friends fell to the ground

Somehow I knew before it hit
Fear ran up my spine
I felt the blast tearing my side
I knew this one was mine

There'll be much grief for loved ones at home
when they learn that I am dead
Please ease their pain and let them know
These things that I have said

Time's run out, I can feel death's sting
Oh, God, please hear my plea
Let there be a place in heaven
For a person such as me

Lord, this is the chaplain, I'm here with this lad
Our country's given the finest it had
We who are older and have studied your word
Know this boy's prayer is more than just heard

It is answered with your love
And the promise that there'll be
A special place in heaven
For a person such as he.


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## Carol (May 25, 2007)

My prayers.

:asian:


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## SFC JeffJ (May 25, 2007)

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## arnisador (May 25, 2007)

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## Jade Tigress (May 25, 2007)

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## shesulsa (May 25, 2007)

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## terryl965 (May 25, 2007)

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## MJS (May 25, 2007)

.:asian:


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## Kacey (May 25, 2007)

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.


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## tshadowchaser (May 25, 2007)

May they Rest In Peace and may their sacrifice not be forgotten

   .


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## LawDog (May 25, 2007)

Rest easy my friends.


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## jdinca (May 25, 2007)

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## IcemanSK (May 26, 2007)

:asian:


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## Drac (May 26, 2007)

:asian:


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## MA-Caver (May 26, 2007)

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## morph4me (May 26, 2007)

.:asian:


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## exile (May 26, 2007)

:asian:

From the saddest war poem of all time, Wilfred Owen's _Strange Meeting:_

_...'Strange friend,' I said, 'here is no cause to mourn.'
'None,' said that other, 'save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled,
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
*I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.

I am the enemy you killed, my friend.*_

Wilred Owen, 18931918 (Sambre Canal)


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