Somewhere
Somewhere a bugle softly sounds
The message of renown,
And some inside their buildings wait
Until the flag comes down.

And others run to get their cars
Quite harrowed or dismayed,
Afraid they will not reach the gate
Before retreat is played.

Not thinking of the flag or those
Who fought to keep it flying.

How many would be glad to stand,
Whose bodies now are mute,
Or have no hand that they might raise
And stand in proud salute.

So accept it not as duty
But a privilege even more
And receive it as an honor
Instead of just a chore.

From the NCO Journal
Contributed by JCH

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