'You must do your best'
'You must do your best' soldier stories

charliehouseman Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
A short poem that explores the struggle of duty and conscience.

'You must do your best'

My life is simple, humble pleasures The girl I love, summer leisure ‘The Duke is dead’ the prime minister says ‘Your time has come, you must do your best’.

My heart grows large, my eyes turn red One final kiss, I lose my breath My mother weeps, my father stares His parting words ‘you must do your best’.

We train for the task that lies ahead Our tools of evil, our countries crest Brothers forever, until the end The sergeant says sternly ‘you must do your best’.

The foreign soil, our blood it thirsts We do not falter, we march and curse We face our destiny, we march abreast My father’s voice follows me ‘you must do your best’.

The fight is hard, our spirit put to the test Death follows us, we cannot rest Our bravery triumphs, ‘oh how our country will be impressed’ We do our duty, we do our best.

But the victory is fleeting, our Brothers fall Staring eyes, cold skin, we loved them all Our grief immense, we lay them to rest They were the bravest, they did their best

The darkness surrounds us, our souls to stone They want to end us, to send us home I raise my weapon; one man lay dead I have taken, life most precious, I have done my best.

The war is over, the duke avenged We wander home, those who were left return to crowds, they stand abreast They thank us all, ‘You are the best!’

The war is over, still a battle I fight My hands tremble, sleepless nights I see his face, where his body rests My heart is cold, no pride, but guilt instead ‘I did my duty, I did my best’.

My parents proud, my love distressed My suffering is silent, put to them instead They grieve for me, the boy that left The Man, broken, who survived, who tried his best.

A fatherless son, sonless mother A widowed wife, man’s lost Brother Their pride is poison, a shot to my chest I confess my sins, they do their best.

My life was simple, now changed beyond measure The girl my wife, our children treasures ‘The Duke is dead!’ she says to them ‘Your Father went, he did his best’.

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