This poem is written about the Mogadishu Firefight which took place on October 3rd - 4th 1993 in Mogadishu, Somalia, Africa. It was the worst battle U.S. forces had been involved in since the Vietnam War. A movie was later inspired by the Mogadishu Firefight, the movie is titled: Blackhawk Down.

They Told Us We'd Be Heroes

I remember the day when I found
out we were shipping out for the big
desert in the east.
Going to save the hungry, from the
hands of the beast.
They told us we'd be heroes, in all
of the world's eye.
We'd dry even the teardrops, that God
Himself does cry.

We rucked up our gear, and we boarded
a plane.
Going to do the work of saviors, put food
in the bellies of the starving, and stamp
out the warlord's reign.
Touched down in Africa, the land of beauty
the home of the lion.
Got my first taste of genocide, and saw
thousands starving, sick and dying.

Astonished at the sight, a good feeling of
why I was there, I felt in my heart.
But soon that feeling would vanish, and
all the ugliness of madness would start.
I saw people shot dead in the streets, over
something as simple as a bag of rice.
Oh I learned very quick that in Somalia
nothing was easy and nothing was nice.

I learned of the blessing, that it was just
to be an American, living back home in
the states.
Compared to this place, America is like
Heaven's Pearly Gates.
God so many times I wish I had never come.
But allow my brother's to go without me? I
could not imagine that, not even some.

One hungry child, I remember so very well.
I fed his empty tummy, with food supplied by
the world, with the best of intent.
I watched over and protected him with my weapon
on the ready, as he ate till his tummy's content.
Jihleal, a good kid of the streets, maybe twelve
or thirteen.
I felt saddness for this kid, born in a place so
evil and mean.

Then came that day, in October of ninety-three.
We went into the badland of Mogadishu for the
warlord Adid.
There the whole city sat, ready to ambush and
murder all of my friends and me.
A firefight ensued, that would last throughout the
day and the night.
We lost ninteen good men, in one hell of a fight.

But I saw there in an alley, Jihleal one more time.
He ran from my left shoulder, behind my back to the
right in a single straight line.
A big welcoming smile upon his face, but an Ak-47
in his hand.
I watched him till he went into my blind spot behind me,
then I turned to the right to see where he would stand.

I thought maybe he was trying to help us, and I was
going to lead him to safety, for he was too young to
be in this battle, this attack.
Then suddenly I felt two hot hard hits, strike me in
my lower right back.
It knocked me to the dirty street, and I rolled over to
see.
Dear Lord there stood Jihleal, pointing his rifle at me.

I layed there in shock for second, wondering why, oh
why?
Why did this child I had fed, want so badly to make
me die?
Then Jihleal turned his rifle towards a friend of mine
that wasn't looking Jihleal's way.
He was about to kill another American, in the chaos
of the day.

In sheer shock I reacted, the way that I was trained to
react and found that the reaction itself, is a double
edged knife.
I pulled my sidearm from my holster, aimed and fired
five quick shots, taking Jihleal's young life.
As it knocked him off his feet, and he fell to the ground.
I saw a scared and confused look in his eyes, as a teardrop
trickled down.

Yeah they told us we'd be heroes, in all of the world's
eye.
We'd dry even the teardrops, that God Himself does
cry.
But now who God oh who, will wipe the tears from
my eye?

J. Lewis Dean