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What is the make-up of this breed,
these strange and special few?
Where do they come from, year-on-year?
What is it that they do?
They are like shadows in the night
or vapor in the air,
so seldom seen and rarely heard
but rest assured, they're there
They come not from a single place,
they come from far and wide,
the open plains, the city streets,
the rural countryside
They are the farmer's little boy,
the girl who lived next door,
the uncle of a high school friend
who gave his life at war
They are the barber's youngest child
who heard his country call,
or friends with whom we laughed and sipped
whose names are on "THE WALL"
And what they do, you needn't ask
for none will ever tell,
in silence based on "need to know"
they proudly serve so well
They're much the same as all before
who vanquished freedom's foe,
they are the ones who fuel the fire
which keeps THE TORCH aglow.