I am called by the rumble of distant thunder
I am called by the chill before dawn
I am called by the smell of coffee and cordite
And running cadence and pipe and drum
I am called by the thrill of conflict
I am called by the need to protect
I am called by demands of simple duty
And muscle aches from work well done
I am called by tales of selfless sacrifice
I am called to be part of something greater
I am called by the memory of those before
And haunting dreams of what might have been
When –and how– O Lord, may I again answer the call?