The cautious tread of the sentry making his rounds.
The distant sounds of the "big guns", their echo in the night.
The mellow full moon, hazy clouds, the twinkling starlight.
The silhouette of army tents, in a staggered "ghostly" line;
Lend themselves to the nightmare of reality and the fear in the mind.
Exhausted warriors' sleep with their dreams of their homes far away;
While at home their loved ones are also dreaming, but awake they pray.
The sentry's mind cries out in anguish from heart and from soul;
Not from fear of loss of life or other dismal prospects of the soldier's role;
But of the terrible heart wrenching thought, of not seeing loved ones again.
"Lord, please, hear me.
You know I'm not afraid of death or pain, but just one more time let me be again in my mom's embrace.
I know you will "Lord", same as you kept me thus far by your benevolent grace.
As you know, Lord, I didn't start this war nor did I want it to begin,
But I've done my duty as best I could, now help us to win.
You've kept us out of bondage by protecting us and guiding us in thy way.
Now help us to return home to walk in thy paths, therein to stay.
Bind up the wounded, relieve the oppressed, and ease those in pain.
Help us, O Lord, to always guard against the things that would lead to war again."
Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.
2 Timothy 2:3
I am sure that these are thoughts that occurred to my father during WW2, serving as a young soldier so far away from home. This, also, I feel refers to other times in his life serving as a soldier of Christ.
One thing I know, his war is over and he's at home with the Victor.
Mine, though, continues on as I do my own soul searching.