It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the Soldier, not the lawyer,
who has given us the right to a fair trial.
It is the soldier,
Who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protestor to burn the flag.

The crops should be full in Belgium this year,
The soil should be fertile, but the price has been dear,
The wheat should be red on the hills of Bastogne
For its roots have been drenched by the blood of our own.
Battered and reeling we stand in their way,
It's here we are, and here we will stay.
Embittered, wrathful, we wath our pals fall,
God, wehre's the end, the end of it all?
Confident and powerful, they strile at our lines,
But we beat them back, fighting for time.
Berserk with fury, they are hitting us now,
Flesh against steel - we'll hold - but how?
For each day that we stay, more mothers must grieve.
For each hill that we hold more men must we leave.
Yes, honor the men who will some day come home,
But pray for the men 'neath the hills of Bastogne.














































Copyright stuff: Everything on here is copyright of Me (MOF Omega X) unless I note otherwise. Book II: Alpha is various rantings by one of my friends, who shall remain nameless for now. Omega symbol on main page is also my work, but most of the images I have on here were gotten from other sources so are rightfully the property of their respective owners.