I am pleased to share a work by my very first guest writer. My brother has kindly allowed me to share this poem that he wrote a while ago. It never fails to move me and I hope that it will move you too.

Soldier

By Aaron Bird

When I was born the doctor told my parents I wasn’t breathing and needed to be put on a respirator until I could breathe on my own. My parents stood next to me and prayed for my lungs to begin breathing on their own. My dad would hold my hand, look at me and say, “Come on, little soldier. We need you.”

 Soldier became my nickname throughout my life. I remember during the school year my mom would wake me up and get me dressed. I would sit at the breakfast table and eat my cereal and toast as she packed my lunch. Then she would say, “Finish your milk, Soldier. The school bus needs you.”

 My dad was a sergeant in the army and he died while serving his country. After his funeral, our pastor came over to offer his condolences. He told my mom how sorry he was for our loss and how my dad was a good man. He then turned to me and looked me in the eyes and said, “You’re the man of the house now, Soldier. Your mother needs you.”

 In high school we had an annual  career day. I would walk around the gym and listen to doctors and lawyers tell me how their field was a perfect fit for me. Every year I would pray about it and walk that floor. Nothing sounded right for me, except one, an army recruiter who would always tell me, “Step up, soldier. The army needs you.”

 I joined the army after high school and left home for basic. Those were some of the hardest weeks of my life. At times I felt like I couldn’t go on, when my arms would hurt after all the push-ups, or my legs started burning after running for what seemed an eternity. But my drill sergeant was always there, screaming in my ear, “Keep it up, soldier. Your unit needs you.”

 I returned from basic training and married my high school sweetheart. Time passed and a few years later we were expecting our first child. One day as I ate lunch in the mess hall with my squad mates, my commanding officer gave me the news that she went into labor. As I sat there taking it in, in that nervous, excited sort of way, I heard him say, “Get going, Soldier. Your wife needs you.”

 “I’ll be praying for you,” my wife said softly, as I stood on the front porch, my orders in my pocket and my bag in my hand. I kissed my wife and I kissed my daughter, then I kissed my wife again. She held my hand and said, “I love you”, as I stayed as long as I could. She kissed me once more and said, “Go on, Soldier. Your country needs you.”

 I was on patrol that day, like the days before. This time shots rang out from across the street. We ran for cover as the captain barked out orders. An explosion flashed beside me. It threw me in the air several feet and I hit the ground. My ears were ringing like nothing I had heard before. The last thing I remember was the captain yelling, “Hang on, soldier. Your squad still needs you.”

 As I sat in my hospital bed, four months had come and gone. The doctor and a general came in to tell me I no longer needed to stay. Then the general handed me a paper. I read the order and began to cry. My time was done, for on that paper read the words “Honorable Discharge”. The general shook my hand, looked at me and said, “Go home, soldier. Your family needs you.”

 As I stepped out of the car my wife came running to meet me. I dropped my bag and held her, my arm tight around her. We laughed and cried for a while then and went inside. My daughter lay napping on her bed. My son I hadn’t met, asleep in his crib. I stood in the door of their room full of joy. My wife’s arms around me, I heard her say, “Welcome home, Soldier. We need you.”

 I am old now. A life of many years. My family gathered around my bed. My wife is at my side her hand clutched in mine. My daughter and my son are near with children of their own. As I lay there and think of all I had done, I would change nothing. Now, my eyes grow heavy as I fall into my rest. My wife gives me one last kiss and softly whispers, “Go home, Soldier. It’s not us who need you.”

 As I wake I hear a voice call. A soft gentle voice. And then I see a man walking toward me. I can see he is dressed all in white. As he approaches he kneels down beside me and puts his hand on my shoulder. He speaks to me and I cry tears of joy. He thanks me for my service and tells me I’ve done well. He takes me by the hands and tells me, “Rise up, Soldier. The Father needs you.”

Thank you

I am, and will forever be, grateful to those men and women who have served our country. If the patriots of Revolution had not been willing to give their all, then there would be no United States of America today. If those who fought for the Union had faltered, our nation would have been divided and slavery would have endured. If our men and women had not joined the fight in the European theater, the evil tyranny of Hitler’s third reich would likely have consumed the world. If our men and women had not risen up and answered the call when Pearl Harbor was attacked, Japan would have marched in and conquered our homeland. The men and women who fought in Korea, in Vietnam, in the Gulf War, and the war in Afghanistan have given their lives, all or in part, to protect the freedom of the United States of America and to stand alongside those we call our friends and allies.

On the Homefront

Though nothing can surpass the valor of our servicemen and women, I think it is only fitting to say thank you to the family and friends who have supported our troops from home. Without your sacrifice our military would not exist. To the parents, the husbands and wives, the children, and the relatives and friends who have welcomed a soldier home, to those who have had to say their last farewell: Thank you.