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 © All Rights Reserved