Standing on the front line, next to a stranger, a man closes his eyes, searching his anger.
Flashes of his children at Christmas, and his wife and friends, he quickly remembers how his life was started, and realizes how quickly it can end.
Bracing his freshly cleaned gun gleaming in the sun’s harsh beams, his hands are sweating, and his heart pounding, awaiting battle, he finds exactly what he needs.
Courage to take the first step.
Courage to fire his gun in the face of an enemy he knows has a family waiting at home.
No fear in his eyes as he hears the screams.
No fear in his eyes as he sees the blood stained uniforms still worn proudly.
He smells the gunpowder whipping at his throat.
Shots in his ear, he still is able to cope.
Glancing left, sweat stinging his eyes, the stranger he once stood beside is pierced with a bullet threatening his life.
As this stranger falls, the man crawls to his side, putting pressure on his wound with hope in his eyes.
Lifting his fellow soldier onto his back, he carries this man to safety then hurries back.
As the battle subsides, and the shots are less frequent, this man closes his eyes, and once again, thanks his soldiers for all that they gave.
Embracing the thought that a man’s life was saved, and his family is now o.k.
This stranger is his brother somehow, some way.
Walking off the field, he knew he would remember this day.
For thanks to his brave soul a hero was made.
