My Friend Joe

I had a friend named Joe,
to Iraq we had to go.
We fought together side by side,
until the day that my friend died.
We were in a town, the name unknown,
playing with some kids.
We gave them candy and MREs,
cause their lives had hit the skids.
When thru a window a gun got poked,
a finger on the trigger.
To kill an American GI,
would make the shooter bigger.
Joe had just given a little girl a hug,
when out of the gun there came a slug.
In Joes back a hole I could see,
the finger on the trigger moved...
then another round hit me.
The children ran off screaming,
as a second slug hit Joe.
My friend knew he was dying,
he didn't want to go.
The shooter he ran,
at the sight of a van,
a big red cross for a sign.
then a medic came by,
said you're gonna be fine,
I'm sorry your buddy's dead.

I had a friend named Joe,
now to Arlington I go,
to tell him of all the things in life,
that he no more will know.
I put a flag and a flower,
on the grave of a friend so dear,
and water his hallowed resting place,
with many a heartbroken tear.

- SSG Jack G. Simpson Jr US ARMY (RET) copyright 2008