I saw him fall, I heard his cry;
                    I knew he too would die.
                    I had seen it too many times before
                    The calamities of war.
                    But he was different from the rest.
                    He was my friend, the very best.
                    We had shared our thoughts and talked of home
                    And what we would do when war was done.
                    We had been together from the start;
                    Seen things that had scarred the heart;
                    Battled on through stench and grime;
                    Knowing there would come a time
                    When war would end and peace would come
                    And together we'd go home.
                
                    The bullet it so swiftly came
                    And on its flight it bore your name.
                    You died a soldier, my true friend;
                    My comrade to the very end.
                    One day, if again I see
                    My homeland and my family,
                    I'll tell them all of what I saw:
                    The togetherness in war,
                    Heroic deeds and gallentry,
                    Defiant of the enemy.
                    Men of steel who bravely led.
                    Many wounded, many dead
                    Who fought to keep their country free.
                    Don't let them fade from memory.
                
Lovingly composed by Mary Rodham, aged 44 (plus a bit more)