Men may argue forever on what wins their wars,
And welter in cons and pros,
And seek for their answer at history's door
But the man with the rifle knows.

He must stand on the ground on his own two feet,
And he is never in doubt when it's won.
If it's won he's there; if he's not it's defeat.
That's the test when the fighting is done.

When he carries the fight, it's not with the roar
Of high armored wings spitting death.
He creeps and he crawls on the earthen floor,
Butt down and holding his breath.

Saving his strength for the last low rush,
Grenade throw, and bayonet thrust,
And the whispered prayer, before he goes in,
of a man who does what he must.

And when he's attacked, he can't zoom away
When the shells fill the air with their sound.
He stays where he is, loosens his spade,
and digs his defense in the ground.

That ground isn't ours 'till he's there in the flesh.
Not a gadget or a bomb, but a man.
He's the answer to trite theories from those who
weren't there
With each new peace, since war began.

And it isn't the fear; and it isn't the hope,
The esprit, the disgrace, or the pride.
It's just the fiber alone to go one more round
After all the machines have died.

So let the wild circle of argument rage
On what wins, as war comes and goes.
Many new theories briefly hold center stage
But the man with the rifle knows.

I found a couple references to it on Google, but it said "author unknown".

Tyrone Green?

Oh no... sorry, that was "Kill My Landlord"

And it's easy to grin

When your ship comes in

And you've got the stock market beat


But the man I admire

Is the man who can smile

When his pants are to tight in the seat




Zen





"This is my rifle, there are many like it, but this one is mine"

Quoted: Tyrone Green? Oh no... sorry, that was "Kill My Landlord"

"Watchdog barking.  Do he bite?"

John Kerry wrote it in the middle of a firefight. Pen in one hand, M16 in the other. Man, what a warrior/poet!!

I do beleive it was the British author Kipling.

This guy :

When your wounded and dying on Afganistan's plains

And the women come out to cut up your remains

Just roll to you rifle and blow out your brains

And go to your God like a soldier.

Quoted: Tyrone Green? Oh no... sorry, that was "Kill My Landlord"

C-I-L-L my landlord.

Quoted: This guy : When your wounded and dying on Afganistan's plains And the women come out to cut up your remains Just roll to you rifle and blow out your brains And go to your God like a soldier.

Kipling.

Witch_Doctor,

Thanks for sharing that poem.  

I looked through a list of 550 poems by Rudyard Kipling and couldn't find it
444slayer is right I guess, the author is anonymous. Anybody else have any ideas?