The Yellow Bastard

I got this confusion, I simply cannot sleep My heart is aching badly, but I found no reason to weep A news from the men in the front line That the war is near to ending, Yet nobody can ascertain which side is going to win I pray for the brave men To be home soon alive and safe A sound sleep for their children They left home before bed I feed them with the hopes That their daddies will win the fight They'll be back if not the morrow Maybe after the next three nights. I am a yellow bastard Who refused to join the rest Of their effort to gain freedom While their own lives are at risk. I can see the shame on my face I can taste my own disgrace My way of self-redemption Is to wish our men all safe. Date & Time of Writing August 11, 2007 1:11am - 1:53am A bit of history: Lt. Gen. George S. Patton, at that time the commander of the Seventh U.S. Army (but he was more popular as the commander of the Third U.S. Army towards the war's end), visited a military hospital in Sicily on Aug. 3, 1943. He walked past the beds of wounded soldiers, asking them about their injuries. Coming to the bed of a soldier who lacked visible signs of injury, Patton inquired about his health. The soldier, 18-year-old Pvt. Charles H. Kuhl, had been initially diagnosed as having a case of psychoneurosis. He told the General that he couldn't mentally handle the battle lines. "It's my nerves," he said. "I can hear the shells come over but I can't hear them burst." Patton, so enraged, slapped Kuhl across the face and called him a "Yellow Bastard".