Del “Abe” Jones

THE FOG OF WAR

He marches in rhythmic step
Across a Country border
With his pack and weapon slung
In precise Military order.

He knows not why, he goes there
He is just doing as he is told
Following his mounted General
Who looks so proud and brave and bold.

The General knows not why he goes
But once given the Command
From those Politicians back at Home
He’ll march his Troops across the Land.

They would search out others of their ilk
Sometimes they will come face to face
With the same from “the other side”
Who wish them moved from that space.

The politicians would talk and debate
Though they knew not, of what they spoke
But they could say, “Well, we tried!”
Although all knew, that was a joke!

There might be something “over there”
That the opposite side thinks it needs
Maybe sometimes, land or riches
Or fear or merely, hatred’s bitter seeds.

The leaders of those Nations
Will say, “Peaceful options are all gone!”
And each one will point their finger
And blame it all on the other one.

But the Generals and their Soldiers
Who really don’t hate “the enemy”
Stand nose to nose and toes to toes
With weapons held, at the ready.

If no one blinks or turns away
Or says, “Let’s try to make things work.”
Then the awful truth about Mankind
Will most surely show its deadly quirk.

And through the smoke from the battle
And above the screams of fear and pain
The sounds of the Soldier’s cadence
Is heard through the Fog of War, again.

And then Parents will be grieving,
Spouses will weep through the night
Politicians pat the children’s heads
And say, “Oh yes, this War is right!”

Then, eventually the fog will clear
And all might seem right and well
But too soon it will roll in, once more
To shroud us in our own man made hell.

There never seems to be a shortage
Of those Brave, young Souls
Who will put their Life on the line
For their Country’s or leader’s goals.

And the “Old Soldiers” “fade” away
Their heads held proud and high
To that place where all Heroes go
Somewhere there, up in the sky.