When The Fighting Started We Became Men Poem by James McLain

When the fighting started, we became men,
With dust on our faces, and rifles in hand.
Gone were the dreams of the fields and the sun,
Replaced by the blood and the bitter command.

We learned to speak less, to feel even less,
And buried our brothers in silence and sand.
The smoke in the distance, the loss, and the press,
Hardened our hearts in this desolate land.

When the fighting started, youth turned to dust,
And in war's cruel valley's, we learned not to trust.