He was late to the war- the canons and guns have already started and the dust is settling in nice and cozy in his lungs.
He was falling apart- running across open fields with battle wounds surrounding every fallen solider he came across- there was so much blood.
He was crying on the inside but god forbid he showed those emotions on the open fields he and his brothers ran through.
He wasn't sure he would see his brothers and sisters all come out of this alive... he wasn't sure he would come out alive himself.

She was late to the war she was covered in dirt and oil from the ***** planes she helped gear up every long twelve plus hour shift.
She heard the engines start, she saw the wheels move and the ocean under the boat seemed more peaceful then the open space above.
She saw her wounded brothers and sisters being dragged out of whats left of the planes landing  feeling their pain as blood smeared across the top deck.
She smelled the gas as the planes started moving towards the edge of the boat and she knew there wasn't time to think- only time to move.

They fought and some survived and some didn't make it back home to their families.
They fought tooth and nail, blood and skin- heart and soul.
They were wives and husbands, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, lovers and fighters.
They were more than a flag.
They were more than a country with a big name.