My father was a soldier
He fought when he was young
Called up, for honour, for duty
Was the nations song
At just sixteen he signed up
Leaving home and family
Heading to unknown lands
With thousands, he went happily

When I was ten I asked him
About the battles he had fought
About the medal he been given
And about the time he had been caught
He looked at me with distant eyes
And shook his head, just slight
Then in soft tone he said to me
Son I will tell, whether it’s wrong or right

Many battles I was part
Of those horrors, I will not tell
I lost my friend. No enough,
I won’t go into details of how he fell.
We fought, we died, we did our best.
The medal? That was for a life I could save
Through burning fields, I carried him
It was life or death, not brave.

Three years I spent in a war camp
Three years, until the war was done
In those years I saw torment and pain
He smiled grimly, man can be cruel, my son.
No, ask no more, past is past
There are things I do not want to re-see
I can only offer one word of advice.
Live, and be the best of human, that you can be.