Musings From a Foxhole
The sergeant volunteered me for guard this cold and moonless night.
I was rushed to the front as a new replacement addin' to my plight.
I don't even know the sergeant's name and I doubt that he knows mine.
The only friend I have is my rifle as I stand guard along the Rhine.
The snow keeps pilin' up and my foxhole is damp and cold.
If the enemy overruns my position I'm not to surrender I was told.
Great chance I have with my rifle to fend off a charge by Tiger tanks!
But in the army you do what you're told when in the lowly ranks!
If the Hun crosses no-man's land and we are suddenly attacked,
I sure do hope I don't let my buddies down and fail to react.
Lord, I pray for courage as about me bullets and bombs assail.
Can I kill or maim another man? Lord, I pray Thy mercy will prevail!
I'm so cold and hungry - how I long for a boilin' cup of joe.
I ain't had a hot meal for nigh on a week since I left Bordeaux.
My feet and hands are ice - I ain't slept for about three days.
Like an old veteran, already I'm developin' that thousand-yard gaze.
It's a danged good thing I ain't runnin' this doggone war.
I'd put them politicians on the line - I bet there'd be no more gore!
I just hope I can survive this army life and get back to the farm.
Shucks! I'm a peaceful feller and don't mean no one any harm!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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