We were saviors once. We were gods. We stood high on mountains, calling out songs of salvation. We marched long days, trudging along our broken roads, each man carrying a lonely burden. We all had our secrets, but we were family. We were brothers. We cut our teeth on wire together, spilt our guts in the mud of hostile lands, all in the name of a freedom we weren't even sure we wanted. We fought because we had to. We were lonely men, brought together under an iron fist called democracy. We loved our land and we fought for it. We fought for our families and our wives, our sons and daughters, our parents and grandparents. We fought not for the politicians that slandered us, nor for the protesters that spit on us, but for our country.

We were grunts. We were true men. Through acts of simple desperation, acts of violence and hate, acts of passion, we became men. We became true men. We were soldiers. “Soul-diers”. Fighters of the soul. We did things that ruined us. We slain innocents in the path of glory, but it was collateral damage, right? Some fucking market value placed on human life. We were called baby killers, murderers, apes, by the same people who promised to welcome us with open arms the day we left. We were the Messiah, riding in adoration, with palms laid at our feet. We returned to crucifixion. This one war, of all the other wars we fought, it was this war. Vietnam. It’s been so long we can’t even remember what the fuck we were fighting for. But we were soldiers damn it! We were true men. We were Saviors! And in the end we stood alone, marching as brothers, singing our Mickey Mouse songs in unison. M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E, Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck! Songs made for children were our escape.

In the end we returned broken to our lost paradise, strong men. But what place for a strong man in a world of cowards? What place for a savior in a society of rejects? And what place for a Messiah, in a society of non-believers? I’ll tell you. It’s OUR place! OUR freedom! OUR God damned salvation! And we live it even today, even when age holds our shoulders down and we stare lifelessly through windows while careless nurses forget to change our bed pans. A product of a lost society. We were soldiers. We were saviors. We speak our old stories because they are all we have left to our name. We fought for our families, the families who fight for us now. And one day they will take our place, alone and abandoned, sitting in rooms watching old reruns and forgetting their pills. The destiny of heroes. For we were saviors once. We were…

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