I have a few poems I'd like you to read before you enter the portion of my site which is dedicated to my adopted POW's and our Vietnam Veterans. These poems touched me deeply and I wanted to share them with anyone who stumbled across this website.
I hate the sound
the word in my ears
hate the meaning
the connotation
of pain and tears -
I hate the word
"Remains."
Bits of bone
and shreds of cloth
perhaps a piece of plane
physical remnants
of someone's life -
"Beloved" was
his name;
Someone brave who died
amid the chaos
and the flames
someone young
someone strong
he is not
"remains."
...and though he slumbers far away
he lives on in someone's heart
as real today as yesterday
though they've been long apart...
he smiles out of
yearbooks
and grins from
picture frames
Oh, he is so much
more to her
than a simple word
"Remains"
CS - "ArmyMom" 3/98
©used with permission.
Unselfishly, you left your fathers and your mothers,
You left behind your sisters and your brothers.
Leaving your beloved children and wives,
You put on hold your dreams, your lives.
On foreign soil, you found yourself planted
To fight for those whose freedom you granted.
Without your sacrifice, their cause would be lost
But you carried onward, no matter the cost.
Many horrors you had endured and seen.
Many faces had haunted your dreams.
You cheered as your enemies littered the ground;
You cried as your brothers fell all around.
When it was over, you all came back home,
Some were left with memories to face all alone;
Some found themselves in the company of friends
As their crosses cast shadows across the land.
Those who survived were forever scarred
Emotionally, physically, permanently marred.
Those who did not, now sleep eternally
Beneath the ground they had given their lives to keep us free.
With a hand upon my heart, I feel
The pride and respect; my reverence is revealed
In the tears that now stream down my upturned face
As our flag waves above you, in her glory and grace.
Freedom was the gift that you unselfishly gave
Pain and death was the price that you ultimately paid.
Every day, I give my utmost admiration
To those who had fought to defend our nation.
He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast
And he sat around the Legion telling stories of the past,
Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done
In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, everyone.
And ’tho sometimes to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we’ll hear his tales no longer, for old Bob has passed away
And the world’s a little poorer, for a soldier died today.
No he won’t be mourned by many, just his children and his wife,
For he lived an ordinary very quiet sort of life,
He held a job and raised a family, quietly going on his way;
And the world won’t note his passing; ’tho a soldier died today.
When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great,
Papers tell of their life stories from the time that they were young,
But the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed, and unsung.
Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land
Some jerk who breaks his promise and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow who in times of war and strife
Goes off to serve his Country and offers up his life?
The politician’s stipend and the style in which he lives
Are sometimes disproportionate to the services he gives,
While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal, and perhaps a pension small.
It’s so easy to forget them, for it was so long ago
That our Bob’s and Jim’s and Johnny’s went to battle, but we know
It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom that our country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger with your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out with his ever waffling stand?
Or would you want a soldier who has sworn to defend
His home, his kin, and country, and would fight until the end?
He was just a common soldier and his ranks are growing thin
But his presence should remind us, we may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict, then we find the soldier’s part
Is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.
If we cannot do him honor while he’s here to hear the praise,
Then at least let’s give him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline in the paper that might say:OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING, FOR A SOLDIER DIED TODAY.
The following poem was written by 20 year old, Lance Corporal Gregory Jerome VanDeWalle from San Antonio, Texas on May 13th, 1967. The poem was sealed in an envelope and sent home. The following morning, a few hours after he had written the poem, Greg was killed in a CAC unit that got overrun by Sappers and NVA regulars in Quang Nam Province, South Vietnam.
The MIDI on this page is called Cecelie... sequenced by Tom Kristoffersen and used here with his permission. He is, unfortunately, no longer online.
