To Hell with Fear
by PFC Allen Milton
U.S. Army Airborne Infantry
Baghdad, Iraq
January 2007

Don't ask me how things are out here
For you don't want the truth,
This place where nineteen year olds boys
Lose their grasp on youth.

You want to hear a story
Told of heat and sand and fear
But even as I tell you this,
A story's all you'll hear.

I can't describe the way it feels
To feel you're going to die
To wake and watch another night,
Never knowing why.

Can't we forget the fear of death
There lurking every day?
Maybe just a little peace,
For sanity, we pray.

The hatred shut behind the doors
Of houses that we pass,
Will take away from the fragile sands
Inside the hour glass.

And someday soon, not far from now,
A fire will come at us,
As missile flashes from a rooftop
Chip away at us.

And that is where you'll find the fear
Erect and standing tall,
Basking in the brutish hate
That takes away from all.

No matter where the missile points -
At us or back at them -
We can't escape the fear inside
The hate that burns within.

Some may find that fear is good -
A numbness that they can keep,
A reason behind killing men,
Excuses to find sleep.

But fear will keep some men awake,
Their eyes half closed at night,
A fear that fills their throat
And makes them flinch at sudden light.

Every man must conquest this
And do as soldiers do,
Killing shouldn't bother us
As it may bother you.

The moral status of the war
Should not be our concern.
Coming into contact,
We will let the hatred burn.

If the perimeter is breached
And you're to kill a man
To hell with fear - grab his face
And kill him with your hands.