The young Americans

They were young, mostly in their teens

In the Army, Navy, Air force and Marines

All for one and one for all

Fighting for freedom, standing tall

Strange names in this place called Nam

Danang, Conthien, lacking far eastern charm

Bloody ridges, paddies filled with shit

I’ve not been to heaven, and quite sure this aint it

We were swallowed up in the humid green

Deafened by the unseen screams

Blinded by the pitch black nights

We fought with heart and not by sight

Monsoon rains beat upon the living and dead

While turbulent visions filled our heads

Chilled to the bone, as fevers rose

We were faithful to maintain the defenders pose

In the holes, or in the jungle streams

We dared not speak, we dared not dream

We were swept up in the green machine

As we broiled in the heat of the morning steam

Yes there were strange names in this place called Nam

Such as Richmond, Klaiber, Preston, and Ron

Jones, Smiths, Vargas, and Sam

We returned different from where the beginning began

Our eyes were blank spit was our thanks

Sworn at by protesters standing upon the banks

They burned our flag, Fuckin’ fags

They must not have seen the body bags

We returned home more or less

Medals and ribbons pinned upon our chest

Brothers barely able to stand

Some in wheel chairs, waving flags in their hand

Outcasts, without honor, home but alone

Baby killers, as we are known

Even so as Brothers together we stand

And will forever remain 

The young Americans

Boondocker 01/2002