Scorching hot sun beats upon our tired bodies,
trying to drain fluids from swelled up pores.
Lips cracked and clothing drenched with sweat.
All day long we marched on with open hearts.

Wooded areas darkened by the thickness of trees,
as branches repeatedly ripped at our flesh.
Slowing our advance and knocking down morale.
All night long we marched on with open hearts.

The cold, damp, misty fog blurred our vision
and marble size rain drops fell like stones.
Combat fatigues soaked up the extra weight.
On rainy days we marched on with open hearts.

Snowstorms and subzero temperatures moved in,
numbing our fingers and toes to the bare bone.
We fought to avoid hypothermia, sipping warm rum.
Shivering cold, we marched on with open hearts.

Shells and bullets homed in on our position,
as the sky and ground illuminated around us.
Cutting us to pieces we bravely fought back
and after wards, we marched on with open hearts.