Poems In Honor of Our Vets
Poems In Honor of Our Vets
The Man
He's eighteen, maybe nineteen;
He sits leaning against a tree;
He needs a shave;
He digs a hole to live in;
He eats C-Rations;
He stares into the darkness;
He thinks about R&R in Sydney;
He's afraid of booby traps;
He's eighteen, maybe nineteen;
~Major R.J. Wilson
His dog tags are laced to his boots
And he doesn't wear a belt.
His hands are cracked and flaked with mud,
And he's sweating.
His feet are covered with sores,
And he brushes a bug off his knee.
His poncho is close by,
And he hopes it doesn't rain.
His drinking water is warm,
And he ran out of smokes.
His eyes hurt,
But he can't sleep because it's his watch.
His friend went back to "the world,"
And he thinks about that too.
His friend lost a foot,
And a guy in First Platoon lost a leg.
His answer to everything is simple,
There it is.
Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.
Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity.
Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem.
You can't tell a vet just by looking. What is a vet?
He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.
He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks,
whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.
She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back AT ALL.
He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
He is the parade - riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.
He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.
He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever
preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor died unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket -
palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a
person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the
service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.
He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.
So remember, each time you see someone who has served our
country, just lean over and say Thank You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.
Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU".
~Father Denis Edward O'Brien
USMC
There is a place called Hero's Heaven
Only the bravest get to see
Reserved for those who gave their lives
For love of liberty
A special place of respect and honor
For those who paid the price
Who gave their lives to preserve our freedom
The greatest sacrifice
We salute you brave and galliant soldiers
For the sacrifice you made
The love you showed for God and Country
And for the selfish way you paid
Your sacrifice has given meaning
To this truth we hold dear
Our freedom is a sacred birthright
To defend and to revere
To you we owe this highest honor
For your love and dedication
No greater love could any show
Than you who died for our nation
For you there is a Hero's Heaven
Only the bravest get to see
In the hearts and minds of a grateful nation
Who preserve your memory
IN HONOR OF OUR VIETNAM VETERANS
~Author Unknown
Back to AJ's Bunker
Email AJ your POW/MIA poem
Donna's POW/MIA poem
AJ's Dad - A Vietnam Vet
Pictures of Dad
268th Pathfinder Detachment
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