Letter From Home

When I was in Combat in WWII, my Dad sent me the following poem, expressing some of his terror.

A Parent is Apart From the World

By Philip Joseph Greayer, 1944

Your parents will never harm you

Nor cause the slightest hurt

Your home is a haven

Where come right or wrong

There's always a refuge

For you my dear son

And if in your absence

You've veered from the right

Come home my son

And together we'll fight.

It is not what I'd wish of course

But if it should be

That you must hurt someone

Then let it be me

We know an army of boys

Will fight better than men

They are less advanced

On the civilized road

So turning them back

Is much easier then.

 

When you went away to fight

And left us "so alone"

I cried throughout the night

For my boy to come home

And when home you came at last

As I thought, to stay

Soon you were fretting

To be off and away

To be roving and roaming

Anywhere,- but here.

It's not you that I blame

'Tis the evil of war

Which casteth out love

While it casteth out fear

And then it was over

What wrongs you have done

Should be paid by the nation

And not charged to you, my son

For they made you fight

While you were yet a boy.

Your young mind was warped

By the National greed

Who bade you to march

And to fly and to heed

You were not taught as a boy

to be just a military toy

But I too have sought

With the rest of the greedy

So it ill becomes me

To be sore at the needy