That one time when we were getting shelled
and I pissed my pants and begged not to die
(yeah, that one time)
I protected my head with my hands
and screwed my eyes shut.

Owen turned me around,
and got my gun up over the edge of the trench,
and put my finger on the trigger
while shouting at me to
"Fucking squeeze, motherfucker!"
His arms locked through mine
to heave me into the right direction for killing.

I prayed to the same God all soldiers do,
(to any God who would listen)
and I lived.

That other time, I just shot this guy.