Patriotism

December 14, 2010
Before the crimes and evils were known,
Before their seeds of war were sown,
I never knew there was a face I could hate
As much as they’ve told me to as of late.
And I had no man to call my foe.

“They are monsters, devils! They must die!
They’ve killed us! We must become an Ally!”
I purposely read pamphlets of propaganda.
Guidelines for my hate. My little memoranda.
And I swore I had hated my foe.

Draft aside, there was nothing but to fight.
There was no end for him but our pure might.
Then there was the Channel and LST ride.
Anticipation of running through the tide.
And I knew I could kill my foe.

The order to kill him came straight from Ike.
They too would kill us for their Third Reich.
What better way to service my nation
Then with his bloody annihilation?
And I couldn’t wait to kill my foe.

We hit Omaha. Doors opened. We ran wild.
He was there. He shot us. Bodies piled.
I hid. I picked him out. I had to run.
He cried tears when he saw my gun.
And I put a bullet in my foe.

I am this day haunted by a face, my reflection.
No, his. He looked like me, to my recollection.
I was that man, and now am as dead too.
He had done what I did when my bullet flew.
And I cried the same tears as my foe.





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