Corporal Harold Henry Schultz Poem by Mark Sauer

By special grace he dodged the friendly fire
Of glory, more pitiless than the foe,
And saved his cherished obscure years entire,
Of life and lovers who could never know.
Unlike the chosen six, in quiet shade
He knit his soul, he learned again to laugh,
He blessed his luck, remembered friends who stayed,
And wept for those who helped him raise the staff.
He slipped through history's grasping fingers;
Stole down the cinder peak, looked not behind,
Passed unseen through hells where thousands linger,
Lived fifty tender years, and left no sign.
Then, at last, glory, faithful as the Corps,
Found him. All present, and accounted for.