A Poem From A Soldier To His Mother (Part 2)

Here is another poem I found that my dad had sent to his mother while away from home during World War II. As much as it speaks of a different age, it also speaks to me of a young man I never knew, the man my father was long before I was ever born.

This country of ours is waging

A battle from sea to sea

And I’m truly grateful

That the battle includes me.

Though myself, I’m not superhuman

And though myself I can’t win this war

Just think of the effect it would have

To add to me ten million more.

Some may be majors and captains

While us privates acquire no fame

But what good is a picture

If it hasn’t got a frame.

I stand ready to do my duty

To fight and to die if there’s need

So that the people I left behind me

Needn’t under a dictator bleed.

When this mess is cleared up

And when our men return

There will be celebrations

And there will be no need to yearn

The men will then take over

To relieve women tired and ill

Let women return to her household

While men return to the mill.

Let new cars roll out of the factory

Let people have tires and gas

Let wives have sugar and coffee

Let sportsmen return to their bass

Let baseball return to its standing

As America’s No. 1 game

Let football and hockey and tennis

Return and again be the same.

A Poem From A Soldier To His Mother

I was going through some things at my mom’s house and came across something my father sent to his mother after enlisting. I thought a poem from a son to his mother during World War II might be interesting to more than just me.

There’s a lonely mother somewhere

And a lonely soldier too

He is many mile away from home

He’s thinking this night of you

He may not have been the best son

That a mother ever had

But though he wasn’t perfect

He wasn’t very bad

Like a million other mothers

To this country you gave a man

For we now have a war to win

And he’ll win it if he can

He appreciates his mother

Now, as he never did before

For he knows that he loves you

And will forever more.

Someday the war shall be over

And someday the fighting done

And the sons will return to their mothers

And the mothers to their sons.

Your Loving Son,

Walter