The Lonely Outpost Scout – © 1971

A lengthy saga telling the Tale of the Lonely Outpost Scout. This was written in a single night, on a window sill, by the light of the street light. I was on guard duty that night, in Boot Camp. I was kinda like a lonely outpost scout.

The Lonely Outpost Scout – © 1971

“Dear Mom, just thought I’d drop a line”,
The letter started out,
“To tell you of the pleasures mine,
A lonely outpost scout.
The pine trees stand out tall and green
Against the shimmering snow.
The moonlight gives an eerie sheen
To everything, you know.
The snow is unbroken and white
Except in places where
A deer has scampered through the night
And left it’s footprints there.
I sit here on the mountainside
And watch the valley lights.
And feel a glowing warmth inside
To know they’re safe at nights.
I see a glow now from the East
I guess it is the sun.
It flares up like a monstrous beast
And wakes up everyone.
Today it doesn’t bother me
Because I get to leave.
Now after all these weeks, you see
I finally get relieved!”

The letter now goes on to say
How he’ll be coming home
To see the sunlight and the day
No longer nights to roam.
The shadows now above him sway
He notices it not.
He has not, now, on his last day
The fear of being shot.

A shot rings out across the land.
The lonely sentry falls.
But reaches out with bloody hand
To make his one last call.
“Give the alarm! Call out the men!
They’re on the mountain here!
The time is now for battle friend,
But not for me, I fear.”
He spreads out ‘cross the snowy land
And feebly reaches out
To grasp his rifle in his hand
And try to fight it out.
A loud explosion echoed clear
Across the valley town.
They knew the enemy, so near,
Would soon be coming down.

The battle fought upon that day
Was won by valley town.
And only then, because they say,
That valiant call came down.
They sent a party up to see
The damage and to save
The sentries life, oh let it be.
If not, to dig his grave.
They found his rifle, broken now
It had discharged three rounds.
With bodies three, they wondered how
So long he’d held his ground.
The hole that the explosion blew
Was tinged with cordite dust.
They saw his letter, ripped, and knew
That met his end, he must.

The hillsides stand in splendor green
Above the valley town.
The war is over, long it’s been
Since snow was on the ground.
A simple monument now stands,
They always point it out.
The rifle that was in the hands
Of the lonely outpost scout.

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