Freedom Is Not FreeBy LCDR Kelly Strong, USCG - Copyright 1981

I watched the flag pass by one day,It fluttered in the breeze.A young Service man saluted it,And then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniformSo young, so tall, so proud,With hair cut square and eyes alertHe'd stand out in any crowd.
I thought how many men like himHad fallen through the years.How many died on foreign soilHow many mothers' tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down?How many died at seaHow many foxholes were soldiers' graves?No, freedom isn't free.
I heard the sound of Taps one night,When everything was still,I listened to the bugler playAnd felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many timesThat Taps had meant "Amen,"When a flag had draped a coffin.Of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children,Of the mothers and the wives,Of fathers, sons and husbandsWith interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyardAt the bottom of the seaOf unmarked graves in Arlington.No, freedom isn't free