I read the entry line above your poem
and know that true soldiers live on
sometimes as legends of a place and time,
sometimes as testimony of the effect of war,
witnesses to brutality
and seekers of peace.
The honest truth is that men die
in their hearts with every shot
that they take,
become something else
like a well trained machine
primed to destroy
and something else takes capacity
when bullets whistle past
and each moment can be your last.
[Reference: Oologsduet by Mandi Engelbrecht.]