I’d have been a teenager on D Day if I’d been born twenty-six years earlier.
I may have been laying under a cross by the end of that fateful week.
Perhaps I’d have been a wounded casualty in a field hospital,
Or maybe I could have been an unharmed hero if I’d had a lucky streak.

I’d have been a teenager at Passchendaele if I’d been born fifty-three years prior.
Of course I might have drowned in the mud with 300,000 others.
But I may have helped capture the ridges near Ypres that November,
And been acclaimed a hero with my allied forces’ brothers.

I’d have been a teenager at the Battle of Waterloo if born 152 years sooner.
I may have been one of 50,000 soldiers killed or wounded that June.
However, I may have been a hero because I helped defeat Napoleon,
By repelling those French Cavalry charges that bloody afternoon.

Instead, I am tremendously lucky that I missed those fearful events.
I’m grateful for my birthday and to those who weren’t so lucky.
I thank them and their families for what they did and what they gave.
I’m not sure if push came to shove I could have been so damn plucky.