The Fighter... I salute

In the calm and pleasant morn,
As the sun's first ray touches the horizon,
the leaves are silent, the breeze still;
the dove in the nest is sleeping still,
Suddenly breaks the silence- A shot in the air amid;
The calm atmosphere has turned horrid!
Slowly from within the fog appears a face
That has not had food for days
His eyes are tired, yet intense and alert
His actions are swift though limbs are hurt
His hands are bruised, yet firm on the weapon
Any time, any moment ready to leap on....
He breathes for his country men- many to him unknown
He fights in the war front, yet all alone
With a motto-To protect and never to quit,
he proceeds on and does never retreat.
Life to him, like for others is dear
Still death to him does not arise any fear
A poem on such a theme is easy to write
Yet his life depends on the one move that he makes is right