Soldier

I saw in his eyes that a life had been beaten away. The cigarettes smoked, the shaking hand. A young man he is but youth had been stripped away. Replaced by a fierce, trained killer, a calm man he was, well spoken and polite but kill me he would have if the order was right. They train them so hard to defend you and me. But it's not training I see in his eyes. It's not fear, it's not lies. A man experienced in what he'd fought through, we can not comprehend the effect on the mind that would do. Cold eyes with a smile, with a shake of the hand. In complete awe I was as he explained it first hand. The memory of battle was so evidently raw. I listened, I listened hard to what he had to say. It moved me to tears later that day. With a respect I had not given to any other man, I made damn sure he knew that he had mine when I said thanks and shook his hand. On behalf of me and my wife, I said thanks to a man who had given all that he had, to defend our way of life. For this was his belief, he saw it as his calling. To be a shield between us and terrorists, to be the brave, to fight for people who can't fight, to be true, to walk into hell and to fight for me and for you. A hero he is and will always be. Though humble and refrained, smoking that cigarette in the rain, carrying pain as he moved forward with his life. I could see the battle scars there like they'd just been cut with a knife. Though so young in age, an elite combat soldier he had been. Seen things a young mind should never have seen? It wasn't glory, nor praise wanted by him now. Remembering his friends dying in such pain, such sacrifice paid for us now. What made him well-up, what made him speak to me was hearing the simplest word that all soldiers seek. 'Thanks'. That's not much for me to say. But him knowing that it was heartfelt when I said it made him see that their sacrifice was not in vein. When I think it's hard living day to day, I will remember this poem and what is has to say. I will remember the young man who I met in the cold, with his weary eyes and say thanks to him again for being so bold. Remember what he stood for, for what his youth and his friends had died for. When the embers of their fires finally die, the memories of a soldier's war will never lie.