“Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot” by Samantha Tolleson
Native noble sons
Jumping at Sarge’s whipcrack
Brothers ne’er to come back
Your rest you have won.
Ducking behind the wire
Scuttling and creeping like a snail
That's the trap, we gotta bail!
While the field is under fire.
Home again- so wonderous to see something green.
A place of plenty and choice
When did home become so loud?
The fighting we do must seem obscene
All so our girls could have a voice.
Now we hate to stand in the crowd.
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