Johnny Got His Gun

It was a pretty dull morning and the Limeys were cold and uncomfortable and sore about the war so somebody took a shot at the Hun. The poor guy stood stock still peering through the fog like he was surprised anybody would want to shoot him. Then the whole Limey regiment began to pop off at him. Even as his body sagged he had a kind of hurt and puzzled look. They let him lie out there with one arm hung over the barbed wire like a sentry who was pointing the way for someone else

Give me back my life. I’m not asking for a happy life now. I’m not asking for a decent life or an honorable life or a free life. I’m beyond that. I’m dead so I’m simply asking for life. To live. To feel. To be something that moves over the ground and isn’t dead. I know what death is and all you people who talk about dying for words don’t even know what life is

of them ever come back and say by god I’m glad I’m dead because death is always better than dishonor? Did they say I’m glad I died to make the world safe for democracy? Did they say I like death better than losing liberty? Did any of them ever say it’s good to think I got my guts blown out for the honor of my country? Did any of them ever say look at me I’m dead but I died for decency and that’s better than being alive? Did any of them ever say here I am I’ve been rotting for two years in a foreign grave but it’s wonderful to die for your native land? Did any of them say hurray I died for womanhood and I’m happy see how I sing even though my mouth is choked with worms