Always loyal… but for what, and why?

I am viewing this from the persepctive of an individual, beyond politics. 

In most countries, soldiers defend their own borders.
In some others though, you become a Marine — defending whichever border the dispensation wants you to. Not necessarily that of your own. 

You sign up for “motherland,” then learn the motherland has a habit of relocating itself to whichever foreign runway you land on. New culture, new climate, same blank explanation. Just smile, salute, and don’t ask why.

You risk your life, your limbs, and your sanity. If you’re lucky enough to return, you get medals no one remembers and nightmares everyone politely ignores. Your family adapts; you try to.

And then you’re labeled a “veteran” — heroic mascot of a cause you never picked and still can’t define.

A casualty of someone else’s decisions, stamped as duty.

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He signed up young, chasing a story he thought was his own,

A promise wrapped in colours he was taught to call home.

They trained him to stand firm, to obey, to never ask why,
But questions grow louder under a foreign sky.

He learned that “country” can shift with the map in a hand,
And conviction can tremble when you don’t understand.
He fought with honour — the kind that scars even the brave,
Leaving parts of himself in the dust no anthem can save.

He returned to applause that didn’t quiet the doubt —
Whose cause was it really he’d been marching about?
They called him faithful, unbroken, a symbol to glorify —
He only whispered : always loyal… but for what, and why?