Kamerad*

He did not crawl into that field
To show courage or pride
He crawled into that field
Despite his urge to hide

He cursed every yard he crawled
Each breath, a labored sound
He cursed yet still he crawled
And would not turn around

Ahead his friend wounded lay
Screaming for his mother
Ahead his friend wounded lay
While closer crawled his brother

He would not leave his friend to die
Alone in such a place
He would not leave his friend to die
With mud his last embrace

So he crawled and cursed and crawled
While rounds rent the air
So he crawled and cursed and crawled
And finally he was there

Now, blood has a sticky feel
And a heavy, copper smell
But the blood of a comrade
Has its own peculiar hell

And now a flare is arching high
Explosives tear the air
And Death strolls this battlefield
In hopes to find both there

The groans of the wounded man
Would break an angels' heart
But wounds and Death were powerless
To tear these men apart

Robert D. Gould
Former Green Beret, 10th Special Forces
*Dedicated to all whom have served and their family and friends