The Flight to Zurich: The Soldier

There was a soldier with us too,
though Switzerland he was just passing through.
He was to board another flight to Istanbul,
and from there transfer to Kabul.
In Army green he was adorned,
and he was fresh, a mere greenhorn.
His patriotic sense I saw.
He’d never broken any laws.
Whatever duty given he would do without the urge to ask.
He’d blindly set himself to any task.
His orders he followed to the letter,
and always said he could have done better.
His worth I saw was measured by his deeds,
and he’d help any before serving his own needs.
For my tastes though he was a little too conservative,
and we had several arguments in which he proved himself most assertive.
His bravery I respected,
and by his words I was affected.
For him I felt immensely sad.
His circumstances made me mad.
Yet little do I think of him now.
For looking back I find him dull somehow.
Of his patriotism I approved,
though by his rhetoric I felt unmoved,
and though I could respect his values and even his flaws,
I just couldn’t find it in myself to wholly support his cause.