Small Wars Journal

A Homage To Half the Nation's Source of Grunts

Sun, 07/24/2016 - 1:18am

A Homage To Half the Nation's Source of Grunts

Keith Nightingale

A Marine

I was born in a bar and filled many a tavern and tomb. But my Service shines since emerging from that womb.

I filled a Nation’s needs and bled where leaders led. The Sea, the Sky, the Soil, they are my constant bed.

I have a family of friends but we are and were so few. Then and now we gather in our memories to view.

I went where others feared to go and did what others could not do. I had no choice as I would not allow another.

I risked my all and paid the bills for our Nation’s greatest races, I asked nothing for my work but another day of grace and friendly faces.

I have seen the face of terror, the haunting look of fear.

And the solace of my presence-seen always through the tears.

I have seen the smile of a happy child and a parent’s thankful gaze.

My presence made a difference through the smoke and cloudy haze.

I have cried and laughed and bled and died, but I have my own reward.

My sword reflects my pride of Service, our history it honed.

I have gone where told by others with all my friends aboard. For a brief moment, I had and knew no others.

The Flag still flies, the race is won, my spirit flashes from the sword.

The residue of Service lights the fading mind.

I have lived with times and trials that others wish forsaken, as the razor’s edge of sword, my pride is not forgotten.

My uniform is dirty and my friends are less and less. But my life’s reflection is only of the blessed.

From the tavern to my bed, my friends through time all sadly keen, but I can smile and go away for once and always I will be a United States Marine.