On a cold barren hillside, on a foreign campaign
The troops were surrounded and the shells fell like rain.
The flag had been shot down; men's spirits hung low.
They hid in their fox holes while shots rang below.
The old Captain knew their danger was real;
If the men could not rally, they'd die on that hill.
They needed a hero to raise up the flag
If they could but hold out for the darkness of night.
The Captain called out for a man with no fear
Then a young man from Boston said, "I'll volunteer.
But sir, there's no need to hold out until dark.
I'll raise up our banner at three o'clock sharp."
When he heard the bell toll in the village below
He climbed up the hillside to the battered old pole
With mortars exploding, bullets striking the ground,
He raised up a new flag then started back down.
With Old Glory flying, men raised a great cheer.
Their comrade's great valor had erased all their fear.
They charged down the hillside, their backs to the sun.
The enemy routed, and the victory won.
The Captain cried out, "Son, you should have been killed.
There must have been angels all over that hill."
But the soldier said "Wait, sir, I'm not really brave.
And I'm not the hero of this win today."
"See, my mother works in a factory all day.
When her shift is over, she kneels down to pray
And that's why I waited for the clock to strike three.
I knew my mother was praying for me."