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A Warrior’s Tears
Freedom’s road has been saturated in innocent blood. Tragically it is leaving behind many maimed forever. A warrior’s tears can be heard above the battle. He has become wounded for life by the enemy. The medics are racing to save every hero fallen. Some will come home to fight a new battle, Beating extreme odds to heal from their severe afflictions. Many have given their limbs for the cost of our freedom! They will shed many warrior tears on their new journey, Needing the aid of many caring personnel. They will need to build courage to even survive, For each new battle will be a continuous struggle. Bravely they fought each new battle call, Against the terrorist enemy destroying humanity. They did not refuse the fight for freedom, Giving up their physical life to achieve if necessary. Freedom’s road has been saturated in innocent blood. Tragically it is leaving behind many maimed forever. A warrior’s tears can be heard above the battle. He has become wounded for life by the enemy. Listen to his continual weeping in the stillness. He is being guided forward by the healing of The Lord. His journey will carry him over the searing sands of uncertainty, Through many hardships bearing the weight of stone. Pray for our wounded warriors! We will give them a precious gift to heal! It will help to cease another warrior’s tear somewhere, Heard from the continual battle of tyranny. Dorothy E. Scott - Warrior Poet For The Lord Jessica E. Reichert, Global Heart SF – Warrior Story Writer © Copyrighted 2015 A Warrior’s Tears Our precious warriors are coming home, wounded with many physical challenges. This book is dedicated to all the warriors and their families, Who will always be fighting their own battle of freedom! 
More Death To Come
The wounded corporal lay on the medical stretcher. Reliving memories of the recent attack, Sorrowful tears saturated his blood-stained face, As a devoted medic administered care to her patient. She hugged the wounded warrior, Crying out delirious from pain. He had seen his whole platoon massacred before his eyes, Hit by many rounds of the enemy mortars. He was mumbling, “More death to come; but Jesus is there.” His colonel had told his whole troops this truth. The helicopter landed to take this warrior aboard, Both of his legs were severed from the explosion. The medic was heard say to the other medics, “More death to come:” but Jesus is watching over our warriors always. War can’t destroy His love for His soldiers. His healing hand banishes the enemy from their spirit. Dorothy E. Scott © Copyrighted 2015 Lost In Sickness Dr. Muk, Love Ya. A Book from Jesus to help others in their journey with their lost in sickness! May it bring you eternal peace and His encouragement always. 
Enric came to me with request
I would never let his friends be forgotten. He knew that I was very passionate with the warriors and their plight, true lover of our warriors. Sadly Enric was killed and buried last week after two weeks earlier, requesting this special poem. Enric, all of our warriors will never be forgotten as long as I can write for you! Your poem will portray the true sacrifice of war. God Bless You All Love Ya Muahhhhhhhh Poet Dorothy Sis On God’s Hallowed Wings They Now Fly Gazing upon the bomb torn battlefield, Tears fell from his saddened eyes, Saturating his medals he wore proudly, Falling to the sandy earthen ground. Lying on the ground in a muddy foxhole, His best friend, Garth, since basic, Lie in a pool of congealed blood, Forever silence from his lips to be. He could hear the tanks firing in the distance. Watching guard over a carefully laid minefield. In his heart was a hollowness felt, A deadly blast had killed and maimed many comrades. He couldn’t understand the needless violence. Yet he promised make the ultimate sacrifice, As he watched his friends draped in flags, Loaded on helicopters on their final flight. Many would die in the terroristic battle, Warriors in Heaven’s spiritual realm, The guardians over those left behind on the battlefield. He knew, “On God’s Hallowed Wings They Now Fly!” Dorothy E. Scott © Copyrighted 2008 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
Rifle Of Freedom
I am standing in the shadows of the past, Where others have weaved their burial shroud. Many warriors have stood before in the sacred place, Carrying the same “Rifle Of Freedom,” so proud. Tomorrow may become my judgment day, When my hallowed soul leaves this earth, While earthly bound I can’t go astray, For every second I am walking in Christ. Around me peril seems to call out to me, A deathly warning penetrates the sensitive ear. In the shadows an enemy lurks evilly, Trying to draw me out with his fear. Night is approaching with a job to perform, As I strap on my protective gear very carefully. God’s armor is my greatest safety charm, While I battle with the Rifle Of Freedom. Dorothy E. Scott (Poet And Writer) Global Heart SF~Jessica (Story Writer) © Copyrighted 2009 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
Wrangling Their Way To Heaven
Fire flew from the bridle of the spiritual stallions, Cowboy warriors wrangling their way to heaven. While thundering bolts of lightening flashed in the distance, Joining the imprint of many cowboy warriors gone before. Etched on their sacred saddles was a spiritual sword, The saber of The Lord was branded. Fearsome cowboy warriors on their eternal journey, Where eternity’s jasper walls await for the bravest. Watching over their warrior comrades below, With Heaven’s lariat ready to ensnare. Their spiritual sabers are drawn in preparation, Watching over every freedom fighter. Wrangling their way to Heaven, Many cowboy warriors will tread eternity’s trail, Where many more warriors will follow someday, Their medal for their final battle won! Dorothy E. Scott (Poet And Writer) Global Heart SF~Jessica (Story Writer) © Copyrighted 2009 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
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Praying for all of our warriors and veterans overseas and at home!
Praying for you my Brave Warrior, George Phillip, and all of the boys fighting in Afhghanistan! A Special Prayer For All! We Are Praying For You And Thank You For Our Freedom! Love Ya All Muahhhh! Poet Dorothy 
Last Ride On The Angel Flight
The Lord’s angels were assembling in heaven to receive the fallen. The skies were lit up from the mortar fires. Innocent blood was trickling on the sandy ground. The rapid rifle fire in the distant never let up. Warriors were watching their bodies covered, Their helmets were placed on their weapons. Their boots were put in front to signify their last journey. They gazed upon the reddening horizon for their last time. It was time to take their last ride on the angel flight. They were going home to see their families one last time. They felt no pain in their extremities anymore. All the battle fatigue in their bodies had vanished. Many more warriors would take their last ride on the angel flight. Their names would be placed on the wall, Honoring many other fallen heroes of war. They all had fought their final battle of freedom! Somewhere another fallen hero will take their last journey. Heaven will open to receive all of the fallen warriors, Making their last ride on The Lord’s angel flight, Their eternal journey to their new spiritual home. Dorothy E. Scott - Warrior Poet For The Lord Jessica E. Reichert, Global Heart SF – Warrior Story Writer © Copyrighted 2015 A Warrior’s Tears Our precious warriors are giving their lives in our battle for freedom. This book is dedicated to all the warriors and their families, who gave their lives and family for the world to be free from tyranny! 
Blessings Of A Warrior
Lying in a muddy foxhole dug, A warrior contemplated his many blessings, Praying he would reach home to see his loved ones again, As he battled in the cold drizzly rain. He thanked The Lord for his family first, Letting a salty tear drip down on his soaked poncho, Remembering his tearful goodbye to his loved ones, Knowing in his heart he could never see them again. He thanked The Lord for his military family, Protecting each other in battle and in peace, For the many warriors and civilians fighting for independence, And the many caring people at home supporting. He thanked The Lord for his courage, For watching over all the warriors in each battle and trial. Not forgetting his praise for The Lord’s guidance, Feeling great love for his own mother and father too. He thanked The Lord for providing him spiritual shelter, When he lie in a rain filled foxhole, Shivering from the cold frigid weather, Yet warm from The Lord’s compassionate love. He thanked The Lord for giving him knowledge and persistence, To be able to fight for his country with pride, Letting not anything mar his dedicated goal, Though the threat of death is always imminent. He said a prayer for the fallen and their families, And for the wounded soldiers struggling to live again. Thanking The Lord for the privilege to pray, For all in the desolate war-torn land. Dorothy E. Scott © Copyrighted 2008 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
Each year we do a special gift for our warriors overseas. We send them special Christmas cards! Remember our warriors overseas with prayer and if you have a gift you can give notify me. I have many who are trying to make a better Christmas and all holidays for our warriors over there and those hospitalized, who need our love and prayers too! Each year I give this poem in honor of our courageous warriors letting them know we care. They are truly loved. This year 2000 cards are being sent by a special marine wife, my adopted sis, Jessica, and also my partner in this book and hopefully many more, which is a gift to our warriors too. She and I, want to give her all to the world! She is awesome journalist and story writer and even poet too! Her daughter, Hope is an asset to us both. I love them both so much. They are a blessing to me. Hope writes too and awesome dedicated first grader with much love for our warriors and her own dad, a marine too. She sends her stories overseas to them.
This is my wishes and thoughts for our warriors so I thought I would share it with you! God Bless Ya All Love Ya All And Remember To Love All Too! Remember To Pray For Our Warriors Wherever They Are! Praying For You Poet Dorothy Sis Our Special Christmas Wish For Our Warriors On this holiday, Our Precious Warriors, We wish to embrace you with our appreciation, With poetry, gifts, and our love, Bestowing upon you our caring thoughts. The perilous sacrifices you endure, Away from your families this holiday season. The emotional and physical wounds you bear, All for the cost of our freedom. We raise our hand in salute to your bravery, Bestowing an honorable gesture, Showing our pride for your dedication, Giving you the greatest Medal Of Honor Of Humanity. Sending you our hugs and our forever adoration, Wherever you are stationed, In the hospital, on a base, or in the field, This Christmas Holiday season away from home. Dorothy E. Scott © Copyrighted 2007 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
Victims Left In The Shadows
Slowly the warriors sneak in the darkened house, Watching for the insurgents waiting to pounce. An elderly lady was darning a woolen sock, Rocking in a homemade rocking chair. In the kitchen beautiful singing could be heard, A small frail lady with a head veil was cooking supper, Peeling some wilted vegetables in a wooden bowl. A grenade was lying on a rustic table. An alert insurgent was lighting his son’s birthday cake, Carrying in the crook of his arms a fully loaded automatic rifle. Around him on the floor were boxes of ammunitions, Revealing death’s destructive fatal play. Backing silently out of the house without firing a shot, The brave warriors recalled the scene before them, The young boy blowing out his birthday candles, While his mother prepared supper. The father guarded over his family, With the weapons of family destruction. Soon they would raid the house, Forever leaving victims left in the shadows. Elsewhere a warrior would be killed, Leaving a grieving family to cope, A young child without his father or mother, Many victims left in the shadows. War brings sorrow on the new day, Isolating many victims in its wake. The families of all sides will be lost in the shadows, Leaving behind tragedy on every perilous wind. Dorothy E. Scott (Poet And Writer) Global Heart SF~Jessica (Story Writer) © Copyrighted 2009 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
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Does The World Know What We Are Going Through
I watched my warrior buddies fall down in the heated sand,
While the acrid gunpowder burned my sensitive nose.
Gazing upon the blood-strewn land,
I wonder if the world really knows,
What we are going through.
We have no tender hugs to console,
No shoulders to hold our fearful tears.
On a sorrowful journey we must go,
A place where humanity has lost its battle many times,
Where freedom is the cost for which we endure.
Tomorrow I will witness the cruelty of tyranny,
Each day I walk I will wonder!
“Does the world know what I am going through?”
Do they take time to say I care?
Before I meet my destiny meant for me?
Each moment carries an unsure death
In this desert of a warriors distress,
A place where hope buries its precious seed,
Giving our warriors the courage to achieve,
In the hostile war for freedom’s road.
Dorothy E. Scott (Poet And Writer)
Global Heart SF~Jessica (Story Writer)
© Copyrighted 2009
Marching To The Battle Cry
My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families
In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton
August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006
In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007
Also In Memory Of Every Warrior,
Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom
I watched my warrior buddies fall down in the heated sand,
While the acrid gunpowder burned my sensitive nose.
Gazing upon the blood-strewn land,
I wonder if the world really knows,
What we are going through.
We have no tender hugs to console,
No shoulders to hold our fearful tears.
On a sorrowful journey we must go,
A place where humanity has lost its battle many times,
Where freedom is the cost for which we endure.
Tomorrow I will witness the cruelty of tyranny,
Each day I walk I will wonder!
“Does the world know what I am going through?”
Do they take time to say I care?
Before I meet my destiny meant for me?
Each moment carries an unsure death
In this desert of a warriors distress,
A place where hope buries its precious seed,
Giving our warriors the courage to achieve,
In the hostile war for freedom’s road.
Dorothy E. Scott (Poet And Writer)
Global Heart SF~Jessica (Story Writer)
© Copyrighted 2009
Marching To The Battle Cry
My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families
In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton
August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006
In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007
Also In Memory Of Every Warrior,
Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom
On December 17, 2006 Seth Michael Stanton finished his eternal journey, missed by his family and friends. May He Rest In Peace! I wrote this for Wendy and his Uncle Eric, a tribute to this brave soldier.
Love Ya God Bless Ya Poet Dorothy My Journey I Have Finished Some travel their whole lives searching. My journey I have now finished. I am walking on eternity’s road, No more will I wander lost. I couldn’t duck and cover, For death held a faster hand. While out on patrol one night, I made my last desperate journey. Walking into the light, I put away my rifle, I have found my eternal destiny, A realm where war has no stand. Some travel their whole lives searching. My journey I have now finished. Someday you will take the same pathway, As you too will touch your eternity. Dorothy E. Scott © Copyrighted 2007 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom My Friends And Family, Johnny And I would Like To Wish All A Blessed Christmas and a blessed year to come. Every year God leads me in finding a poem that will express the needs and wants of Christmas. Christmas is not only a time for us to receive presents but for us to give others gifts not always monetary but also of ourselves. This year many have asked me to write their poetry for cards being sent to soldiers, hospitals for soldiers, and nursing homes even prisons.. This morning I received a call that 12 nursing homes are sending homemade cards to our warriors overseas and I was asked to write the poem for the card. Also and children hospital director wants me to write poem for cards being given at children hospitals. You see I am not rich and all I have in this world to give is my heart and my poetry,but to me I am the richest in the world. This week God has been giving me my Christmas poem for this year but testing me to find a way to do his wishes. It was a very difficult and very long poem to bring two warrior families together in a trying and sorrowful time. Some of my friends and adopted are dealing with the death of their warrior and others with injury or still in the war zone. This is dedicated to you all especially for Anthony Melia’s family and Seth Michael Stanton’s Family. God told me that this poem needs to be able to comfort all and I hope it will and make others realize the true gift of Christmas. These families all need your prayers. So many families won’t have a Christmas this year unless you all intervene. So many will need your love and just your time. All of you out there take time to send a card and present to one wounded warrior or warrior overseas. Find someone needing also and make a child smile.
The true Christmas spirit is the one you find in your own giving heart. Love You Muahhhh God Bless You All Praying For All Poet Dorothy Sis Last Christmas Wish The doorbell rang incessantly. A lady went to answer the door. Standing on the porch was a man in uniform, Her son’s chaplain was standing there nervously. Looking at the brightly glowing Christmas wreath, Hanging on her front pane door. He stepped into a very beautiful scene, A lighted Christmas tree with many presents. A banner was hanging above the fireplace mantle, Emblazoned with the words. “Son You Are Coming Home Soon!” Many colorful stockings were filled underneath, With many goodies for the holiday season. The Chaplain took the mother’s hand in his, Clearing his throat He began to pray. Tears brimmed his eyes, As he related the story of her son’s death. “Your son was ambushed yesterday. His whole convoy was killed in the battle. He left this last letter for you to read, Knowing you would be so sorrowed.” The mother took the letter gently, Staining the precious parchment, With her tears of grieving, Tearing the envelope so carefully. Her wrinkled hands trembled, As she picked up her reading glasses. She gently slid them on her face, Not wanting to miss a morsel of her son’s last letter. The letter was gripped tightly, As she began reading it aloud. Her son’s familiar writing leaped, From the tear soiled pages. “Mom, I love you very much, Don’t weep for me, Mom, I am in God’s Army now, I am His soldier of purity. “I will watch over you, So shed not a tear of loneliness, But know your son has finally come home, And He will eternally love you so. “Many other warriors won’t have a Christmas, Mom. They are in the hospital all alone. Please give them my gifts for Christmas, Make their holiday like our own home. The mom cried holding the letter, As the last words were read, “Mom, It’s time to go, I heard the death mortars sound.” Reading the last words, She couldn’t hold back her sorrow anymore. “I love you Mom Eternally, Your Son Forever, Drew.” The Army Chaplain left the sorrowful scene, Knowing many more families would hear tragic news, As long as our warriors were battling overseas, There would be many more last letters to deliver. Sitting in her maroon comforter with the last letter, A new blanket with his name around her, She held his photo in her trembling hands, As she cried herself to sleep. The next morning she turned on the Christmas lights, She started removing name tags from all the presents. Though feeling such sorrow in her heart, She set out to fulfill her son’s last Christmas wish. Across the town was another grieving family, Their marine daughter was fighting overseas. Gazing around the den, A dusty Christmas tree still stood. Underneath it was presents unopened, Waiting for their daughter to come home. They had lost the Christmas spirit, Worrying about their daughter so much. The phone rang disturbing the ghostly silence, The voice on the other line was their daughters commander, Relating sad news about her injuries, When her vehicle had found a hidden mine. She was being flown tomorrow, To a hospital very near, And a car will come get them, Taking her family to see her. She had lost a leg in the accident, But she was going to be fine. She would have some rehab, Then she would be coming home. Her family was so happy to see their daughter, They tossed out the old decorations and tree, Set about redecorating and baking, For their daughter was coming home. Night came quickly, Both families were busy with their chores. Drew’s mother was baking cookies. She had many more presents to wrap. She felt her angel warrior watching over her, As she prepared to make, His last Christmas wish would come true, Knowing she was giving him the best Christmas ever. The next morning her alarm rang at 6 A.M. She was to meet the hospital chaplain today, Delivering her son’s last Christmas wish, Singing while she loaded all the presents in her car. She drove to the hospital thirty miles away, To bring her son’s presents to the wounded. The hospital chaplain met her at the door, With large buggies to carry all the presents and cookies. Wheeling down the hall she delivered her presents, Telling all the bandaged soldiers, “It’s a gift from my soldier son. It was his last Christmas wish. On the end of the hall, Where the orthopedic ward was, She stood at an open door, Hearing a young girl sobbing. A young girl was lying in traction on a bed. Her left leg was in a cast, While the right was amputated at the knee. She was having hard time accepting her handicap. Her family stood near, Not knowing what soothing words to say. To comfort her sadness, Make her feel better. The soldier’s mother took her hand. She gave her a loving hug, As she handed her presents And a delicious bag of cookies. She said, “Darling I know how you must feel, My son died a few days ago. It was his last Christmas wish, For all of the wounded have the best Christmas. From heaven a warrior angel gazed upon his mother, As He heard her silent prayer to him. “Son, I am fulfilling your last Christmas wish. I hope you are listening today!” Dorothy E. Scott © Copyrighted 2007 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
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On January 27, 2007, Anthony finished his eternal journey, missed by his family and friends. A sniper’s bullet destroyed his family’s peace forever. May He Rest In Peace!
Love Ya God Bless Ya Poet Dorothy Dreaming His Last Impossible Dream His footsteps are now carved in marbled stone, Dreaming His Last Impossible Dream. No football goal was ever too far, Nor any obstacle too great to achieve. It became his wish to revenge 911, Where many innocent lives were lost, Destroying America’s sense of freedom, Ridding America of foreign tyranny. He joined the Marines to battle for our freedom, Willing to give his life in a foreign country, For the precious cause he believed in, Knowing he was facing an impossible dream. The moment a sniper’s bullet tragically ended his life, He waved goodbye to his family and friends, As he took a final journey on eternity’s road, Dreaming His Last Impossible Dream. Dorothy E. Scott © Copyrighted 2007 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
My heart goes out to the family of Joe Anzack. My heart is hurting for their loss but also for the cruelness of the death at the hands of his captors. I pray for the missing soldiers return and their familys’ comfort.
When I visited his website this poem came to me I just knew it was his last words to his family. God gave me the gift of comforting others yet the compassion to hurt for others too. love ya muahhhhhhhh God Bless ya Poet Dorothy Sis I Am Not Dead I Am Still Kicking My family I Am Not Dead, I Am Still Kicking, Walking the golden streets of paradise. Cry not for me but for my soldier brothers, Missing and fighting freedoms war. Let not my sacrifice be in vain. Let your prayers be for our families, My country, I have proudly given my life for, Helping the world to be released from tyranny. Weep not on my grave, For I am not there, I am walking with my fallen comrades. My memories will always give you comfort, Death could never claim me, For I have the eternal love of my family. I Am Still Kicking, I Am Not Dead, Death can never claim this soldier. Dorothy E. Scott © Copyrighted 2007 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
Truly A Night Of Miracles
Cold blistery winds cut through his heavy coat, Chilling his body to the bone. Another holiday spent on guard duty, Another warrior’s day away from his home. He gazed at the concealed ammunition dump, Checking for any lurking danger. He could hear the sound of rustling occasionally, Making his nerves feel jumpy at any noise. He looked at his watch through its night glow, He could see it was now Twelve A:M, Christmas Day! He would be on guard till Seven A:M, Facing the cold frigid night with only a comrade. He took time to thank God for His birth and His grace, Thinking of the warmness and his mother at his home, Adjusting his camouflaged woolen muffler around his neck, Seeking the comfort only it could give. Suddenly he heard crying and moaning in the distance, He called to his comrade “Watch over the ammunition dump,” As he silently went to investigate, Knowing it could be an ambush by the Taliban. His weapon shimmered from the moisture, As he leveled it to ready to fire, Releasing the safety to prepare, Careful to avoid any crunchy leaves on the ground. In the distance fluttering wings of some bird can be heard, Making the warrior feel more eerie. He again heard the weak crying and murmuring. It sounded like a woman in pain. He knew the enemy used women to ambush warriors, So he watched alertly for any peril about, Knowing the enemy was deceivers, Preferring the use of the innocent victims to conquer. He saw the helpless woman, lying on the ground. She had been so badly beaten, Many wounds all over her barely covered body. Her body was thrashing and in seizures. He quickly carried the lady to the ammunition dump, Knowing God was telling him to hurry. Backing back with his weapon kept on the scene, He returned to his guarding spot. He sent the other guard for the medic and the colonel. While he removed her bloody torn clothing, He noticed the lady was pregnant and had died. He had only minutes to save the baby from the same fate. Nervously he removed his soiled gloves, Retrieving his knife from its sheath. The cold icy air hit his exposed fingers, Making him violently shiver from the cold. He looked up to God and said, “Father, I Need Your Help Please!” I am just a warrior with only little medical training, But I must save this child of yours today! “Please guide my knife in every cut.” A peace settled over him, Giving him the ability to set the baby free. He lifted the blue still body from the mother. “Oh Lord! He cried, Bring life to him please!” He cleaned the little boy’s mouth and nose. A blood curdling cry entered the night, Joining his wept tears of happiness! The colonel and the medic arrived, The colonel praised him for his heroism. Gently he bundled up the baby with his own coat, And took his new son to the tent infirmary. Two miracles happened that Christmas, For the colonel had lost his only son in childbirth few days before, That night God had gave him a greater gift, A new son to love, nurture, and to raise as his own. They placed the deceased woman in a bag, Telling her, “ Two miracles happened this night. You had a son and God gave him a father, Truly a night of miracles in the frigidness of a cold war.” Dorothy E. Scott © Copyrighted 2008 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
Written for Dallas Historical Foundation Speech
September 11, 2009 Have You Forgotten Have you forgotten the dismay in our hearts, As we watched large foundations trickle to dust? How fear arose in our minds gazing upon the bodies strewn. Innocent blood screamed from the dying and injured? Have you forgotten the tragic day of bloodshed and terrorism, Elsewhere a flight was saved by the brave passengers and crew? Or the courageous efforts of the rescuers of humanity, Facing the numerous casualties of a political war? Have you forgotten the triumphs and tragedies of our warriors today, Children and families torn apart by the terroristic war, That bloodshed still stains the ground where freedom fears to tread, Many warriors are returning home with loss of mind, limb, and life? Have you forgotten the freedom we hold close, All the precious assets destroyed on September 11, 2001? How each day another warrior pays with dedication, his or her life, The world is waiting for a reprieve from terroristic threat. Have you forgotten how people bonded together to help, A wounded nation to strengthen again, Knowing these precious words of thought, Under God’s everlasting arms we will always rest? Dorothy E. Scott (Poet And Writer) Global Heart SF~Jessica (Story Writer) © Copyrighted 2009 Marching To The Battle Cry My Gift To Our Deserving Warriors And Their Families In Memory Of Seth Michael Stanton August 21, 1987 - December 17, 2006 In Memory Lcpl Anthony C. Melia August 30,1986-January 27, 2007 Also In Memory Of Every Warrior, Who Fights And Those Who Die For Our Freedom 
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