Speaking to my nephew about my father who fought in the Balkans (Albanian Forgotten War):
I once asked him:
“What was it like to shoot people in war?”
Sighing, shoulders slumped
Faraway eyes, swallows hard
Staring down at weathered hands
Sighing then inhaling sharply
“We didn’t know what we were shooting at –
Deep in those forests.
It was dark, damp and dank.
We all suffered.
I don’t know…”
He looks away…
We never spoke about it again.
© T. Altman 2017
tinaaltman.com 
I was a soldier.I do understand this poem.
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Thank you for your service John!
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I enjoyed your work and you are welcome.
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