I served some time in the Navy during the later years of the Cold War and during Desert Storm. After I left the ranks of the large 'family' that had been so much a part of my life, I wrote this in rememberance of those I was so close to for so long...

Soldiers fight their battles together

They count on one another, they forge a bond

A bond so strong, broken only by death

Stronger than that of normal friends, brothers, even fathers.

A soldier needs his comrades for cover from enemy fire

He needs his comrade to render aid in injury.

He needs their company to drink, to fight, to carouse

He needs them to help put aside the misery

Brought on from the violence surrounding him

When the last cannon is fired, the last bomb is dropped.

After the last column of troops occupies the bombed out towns

When the treaties of armistice are signed, and the ink dries

This bond is traded in for anticipation

As the soldiers make the final march

Not down the Halls of Montezuma, not up the hill of Iwo Jima

But to the train stations, bus depots, and airports

Of places less exotic. Places with more generic names,

Kenosha Wisconsin, Boise Idaho, Bellefontaine Ohio

Auburn California, and Nenana Alaska.

The troops leave the field, rifles held low and harmless

A single column, to that harbor, that station, that first airport.

Then it divides. Different planes, different trains.

Hundreds, then a few dozen, then one or two.

Until one lone warrior arrives at the airport gate.

The friends of childhood, the families, the loved ones may be there

But those who held his life in balance, they are gone.

That tight bond that meant difference between life and death

Broken, and a strange emptiness replaces.

Once again, the old bonds of family, community are restrung,

But a soldier never forgets those violent nights in the foxhole

When his life was so dependant on those others.

Others who were at first, strangers from distant towns,

Yet for those weeks, months, even years, were all together.

And now, when the turmoil is over, to go back home, back to life, as if nothing happened.

After the battle, he never quite gets out of the foxhole.