This, in some form, was rejected from the Yale Literary Journal in 2019. They suck.

Perhaps it is no pity

That our memories wax and wane

Perhaps it is no guarantee remain we ever sane

For even when a word impart I give so frightenedly

I manage to deliver it with such ascendency 

That even I remember it

The one who swore to not

But when I'm captured on the road

Reveal it I will not

For though I am your messenger 

Fleet-footed and outmatched

Without a helmet, ball or chain, no gun upon my back

I act as though your answerer

The General whom you seek

For it is I who wants to be the hero of the week

The hero of the shortest time you think I'll live out for

So often you forget we are the heroes of this war

A dignity afforded the hope of many men

The ones that come, the ones that wail "I won't go home again"

Its angels these who bow my head in solemn lonely plight

When dare I dash unhindered through the dark and alien night

Through dark and alien territory 

Behind enemy lines

For speed and silence, quick and evil, 

You prioritize

Do not fear he who would forget 

For I am what you ask

I'm bullet sleek its stealth and ease

That I put unto task

I am the messenger you send 

When radio is down

When pigeons balk,

and signal's blocked

and you can't fire a round

For only then these wars of men

must confront heaven true,

And send again humanity the gauntlet to run through

I am the child who holds the note, 

decoded in my brain, I carry lists and numbers, names, statistics, battle plans,

You receive me as an omen

You send, you take, you give, 

And seem always to disrespect the fact 

I may not live.

So damn communication

Why cast my soul about?

If I can be a messenger, God know I could get out,

Fly AWOL 'cross the deserts made on no-mans-land at night,

Lord's sure that I can make myself a fiend--

Revise my plight.

So cursed are we to remember

We do this not at all,

For trust is the only thanks we get for 

serving our patrol

By giving us the chance

to backfire plans, escape,

The General gives me notice it would be a great mistake

For I am not a gambled life, this trust held in my hands

I am the known life upon whom all other lives doth stand

I will not fail my countrymen

I will not fall to foe

My memories shall shield me from the ones I should not know

And if they torture from me some short word that may be hint, 

I swear I shall then make it law

For some just recompense.

It will not end until I've saved 

Each soul endangered then

Until I can be sure that they can all get home again.

For home is not a far-off place

I've been and I'll return

I am your army messenger

I am your ashes' urn

I will ensure, red, white, and blue, that you get home again

Across the sea, to doorstep be, 

If just a telegram.

           I suppose it lacks clarity; oh well, I like its origin