Thursday, February 21, 2008

Remember the Marines

Marines on patrol in IraqWhile recently digging through some boxes that we had in storage, I found one that had some of my gear from the war. Among the gear was an Iraqi notebook. I wrote the following in April 2003 somewhere south of Baghdad in the notebook which I found during one of our missions.

When you eat your evening meal tonight
Though it came a little late
Don’t become ungrateful
Because you had to wait
Because you may not see it
Still without a doubt
Somewhere there’s a Marine
Who tonight will go without

Though his stomach’s growling
And his hunger’s very real
Somewhere that Marine
Will go without a meal

When you pull back your clean sheets
And climb on into bed
And on your fluffy pillow
You rest your tired head
Just know that far away
As you doze so deep
Somewhere there’s a Marine
Who will go without sleep

And though he dug a fighting hole
Without the aid of light
And he’s been up for 24 hours
Still he’s on watch tonight
So though you must rise early
Remember what I’ve said
Somewhere there’s a Marine
Who never went to bed

When you drive your car to work
And all the traffic stops
And drivers cut you off
Unnoticed by the cops
Don’t become exasperated
And spew profanity
Somewhere a Marine today
Has been walking constantly

He carries everything he has
In a pack upon his back
And on his head and body
Wears a helmet and a flak
No vehicle will drive him
With no shelter from the rain
His leather boots are all he has
Though he’s in constant pain

In the safety of your home
You kick back and relax
You’ve got everything you need
You know nothing lacks
You read of other countries
And see them on TV
And hear of suicide bombings
And shooting constantly

You know no one will harm you
For doing as you please
For you live in America
And you can rest at ease
Just remember why you have
The liberties you do
And who it is that pays the price
For others just like you

That Marine holds constant vigil
And stands in harms way
Lives with bare necessities
And does it every day
He sacrifices for he knows
What freedom means to you
He makes that sacrifice
For the Red, White and Blue

-written by Sgt. David Scott, squad leader

3/1 India Co., 1st Platoon - April 2003


David Scott said...

So why has nobody been like, "Wow, I totally broke down and cried all over my pepperoni pizza when I read this", or "Dave, your poem totally stinks like a dead cow's manure"? Feedback anyone?

Jordan said...


David Scott said...

Thanks Jordan! I'll stop crying now.

Disclosure Policy