Here's a W.W.II song about a soldier who disliked war:

BRING THE YOUNG MEN HOME
(D. C. Couch)

Bring the young men home; bring the young men back again.

I was saying goodbye at the station
To my stranger in battle dress.
There were mothers all crying
And kissing tall sons
Who were slapping their fathers
On shoulders grown round,
And I saw them, in hundreds
As they strode up to the trains,
Heard the sound of their singing
And I saw him smile again.

Bring the young men home; bring the young men back again.

I was lying alone in my bed
When the bombers they flew overhead.
In the shelter, I hugged his picture to me.
I cried out when he whispered to me in my dreams,
And I saw them, in thousands
As they marched along the road
Packing kit bags with their troubles,
And I saw him smile again.

Bring the young men home; bring the young men back again.

I was listening to an old man
Who was talking of why it began.
In the cinema, they showed the pictures of war,
The wounded, shipped home.
What were they crying for?
And I saw them on stretchers,
With guilt etched on their faces,
All those hollow-eyed survivors,
Leaving brothers, failing friends.

Bring the young men home; bring the young men back again.

They brought my young man home that winter,
But hour upon hour in silence he'd sit.
He would stare at the quiet skies,
And fifty years on,
Though he won't speak of blame,
The memories remain.
Still he sees them, in thousands,
Hears the sound of their singing
Of packing kit bags with their troubles,
And he sees them smile again.

Still he sees them, in thousands,
Hears the sound of their singing
Of packing kit bags with their troubles,
And he sees them smile again.

Copyright 2000 D. C. Couch

HTML line breaks added, and changed from all caps. --JoeClone, 22-Feb-03.