"Soldier Keep On Marching On..."

“Soldier keep on marching on…

Head down ‘til the work is done.” 

A few years ago, in the span of the little over three years my family lived in El Paso, my dad went on two combat deployments, to multiple field exercises, and to one training at Fort Irwin. We estimate that, cumulatively, my dad slept in the bed upstairs for only six months out of the whole time. 

“Waiting on that morning sun.

Soldier keep on marchin' on.”

Many mornings, I’d wake up to see a photo of the sunrise from my dad. Sometimes it was from the view of his tank, the turret pointed at the golden globe. The sunrises were always beautiful, no matter where my dad was. 

“Head in the dust…”

I remember, in fifth grade, walking across a field after school to get to my mom’s car. We were living in the high desert. Lots of sand was hidden in the scraggly grass of the field, and if the wind was strong enough, our legs would be pelted by the tiny pricks of flying sediment. On days when it was incredibly windy, the mountains looming over the city would be shrouded by dust, sometimes barely a discernible outline. 

It would remind me of the dust storms my dad sent photos of, ominous clouds towering high and barreling toward the city he was in.

“...Feet in the fire.”

In Afghanistan, the locals would burn anything to produce heat in the winter. Tires. Trash. Dog feces. The air quality was extremely poor, and for the sake of my dad’s health, he had to wear a face mask whenever he went outside. 

“Labour on that midnight wire.”

Deployment days aren’t normal days. Work doesn’t start at 0800 and end at 1700. My dad frequently told me of his days when he would wake up at 0600 and finally rest again at 0100 the next morning.

“Listening for that angel choir…

You got nowhere to run.”

One day, the missile warning system went off at the base my dad was at. It was only a false alarm, but if it was true, there was nothing the soldiers could’ve done. Unfortunately, it wasn't the first time death had tried to touch my father; when my dad was deployed while I was a baby, he was targeted for assassination. 

“Soldier keep on marching on!

Head down ‘til the work is done…”

I was introduced to this song as my dad was getting ready to deploy for the second time while in Texas. We didn’t know it then, but this deployment would be interrupted by COVID-19, and my dad would be gone for all of my sixth-grade year. 

At the time, my family was into watching America’s Got Talent, and two young kids performed a contemporary dance to this song. The song and dance became imprinted into my mind, a perfect illustration of the emotions of deployment. The love. The sacrifice. The longing to not be separated by great distance. 

And, as I was with my dad when he took the photo the military would give us if he perished while gone, the dance conveyed the heavy fear that the goodbye could be permanent. 

“Soldier keep on marchin' on.”

I admire my father for his steady sacrifice to our nation; I respect all who have served. Understanding the potential dangers and still choosing to commit themselves to the line of duty is truly the ultimate sacrifice. It takes more courage than many people have to keep on marching on. 

(The dance is to a modified version of the song. The full song is "Soldier" by Fleurie.)