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A Poem by a Soldier:
.
If I Die in a War zone
Box me up & send Me Home
Put my Medals on My Chest
Tell my Mom I did My Best
Tell my Dad not to Bow
He won't get Tension from me now
Tell my Brother to study perfectly
Keys of my Bike will be His permanently
Tell my Sis not to be upset
Her Bro will not Rise after this Sunset
Tell my Love not to Cry,
.
"Bcoz I am a SOLDIER,
Born to DIE".... !!!
 

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In the tarpaper morgue at Chalons-sur-Mare in the reek of chloride of lime and the dead, they picked out the pine box that held all that was left of ......John Doe....

the scraps of dried viscera and skin bundled into khaki
they took to Chalons-sur-Marne
and laid it out neat in a pine coffin
and took it home to God's Country on a battleship
and buried it in a sarcophagus in the Memorial Amphitheatre in the Arlington National Cemetery
and draped the Old Glory over it
and the bugler played taps
and Mr. Harding prayed to God and the diplomats and the generals and the admirals and the brass hats
and the politicians and the handsomely dressed ladies out of the society column of the Washington Post stood up solemn.
and thought how beautiful sad Old Glory God's County it was to have the bugler play taps and the three volleys made their ears ring
Where his chest ought to have been they pinned the Congressional Medal

John Doe Passos, from his novel 1919
 

"We're the Battling *******s of Bataan,
No mama, no papa, no Uncle Sam,
No aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no nieces,
No pills, no planes, no artillery pieces,
And nobody gives a damn!"

-- Frank Hewlett, 1942.
 

Written By an unknown Airborne Ranger
​

IT WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS, A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY
SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I 'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM
HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE";

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS."

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.

I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS
DAY, ALL IS SECURE."

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."
​
 

Last edited:
mama mama can't you see,
what the army's done to me.

They put me in a barber's chair,
spun me around I had no hair.

Mama mama can't you see,
what the army's done to me.

They took away my favorite jeans,
now I'm wearing army greens.

Mama mama can't you see,
what the army's done to me.

I use to date beauty queens,
now I love my M16.

Mama mama can't you see,
what the army's done to me.

I use to drive a Cadalliac,
now I carry one on my back.
 

About a year ago I was sitting in The Ft Worth VA Medical Center waiting on my turn for my appointment. Sitting next to me was a white haired elderly lady just as sweet as she could be. She asked me what service I was in and I told her. She then asked me if I had been to Vietnam and I said yes, twice. She then said Thank You for your sevice and how proud she was of all our vets. Again, I thanked her. At that point, into the waiting room walked an elderly white male and sat down beside her. She introduced him as her husband and said that he too was a veteran. I asked what service he had been in and he said he was in WWII in the US Army. He then went onto state that he had been on Bataan when it fell and was part of The Bataan Death March. At my encouraging, he told me in detail about that horrible experience in detail. He said he won't tell the story to anyone but another vet because most others wouldn't understand. I felt honored just to be sitting with this man and told him so. When I got up to go to my appointment, I took off my Veteran's ball cap, thanked him for what he endured for me and the rest of our country and shook this old man's hand. I almost had tears in my eyes at that point after hearing in detail his death march story. I thought to myself, now that was truly an honor that most don't ever get to experience. BTW, all the nurses seemed to know this gentleman and treated him like he was gold...AND HE IS!!!
 

With the coming of Veteran's Day this seems appropriate. These are real people fighting a real threat.
 

Attachments

pippinwhitepaws said:
mama mama can't you see,
what the army's done to me.

They put me in a barber's chair,
spun me around I had no hair.

Mama mama can't you see,
what the army's done to me.

They took away my favorite jeans,
now I'm wearing army greens.

Mama mama can't you see,
what the army's done to me.

I use to date beauty queens,
now I love my M16.

Mama mama can't you see,
what the army's done to me.

I use to drive a Cadalliac,
now I carry one on my back.
Click to expand...


If you meet the guy in this poem, thank him for his Service, and for your Freedom! :hello2::headbang::occasion14::icon_salut::icon_salut::icon_salut:
 

davest said:
In the tarpaper morgue at Chalons-sur-Mare in the reek of chloride of lime and the dead, they picked out the pine box that held all that was left of ......John Doe....

the scraps of dried viscera and skin bundled into khaki
they took to Chalons-sur-Marne
and laid it out neat in a pine coffin
and took it home to God's Country on a battleship
and buried it in a sarcophagus in the Memorial Amphitheatre in the Arlington National Cemetery
and draped the Old Glory over it
and the bugler played taps
and Mr. Harding prayed to God and the diplomats and the generals and the admirals and the brass hats
and the politicians and the handsomely dressed ladies out of the society column of the Washington Post stood up solemn.
and thought how beautiful sad Old Glory God's County it was to have the bugler play taps and the three volleys made their ears ring
Where his chest ought to have been they pinned the Congressional Medal

John Doe Passos, from his novel 1919
Click to expand...

And the end result is you use the freedom this man won for you in this dis-respectful way...ain't that America!
 

Folks,

Since this thread is to honor service men and women here's another one some you may know.

Regards + HH

Bill


[TABLE="align: right"]
[TR]
[TD="class: px16"] [/TD]
[TD="class: px16, bgcolor: #FFFFFF"] [/TD]
[TD="class: px16, bgcolor: #FFFFFF"] [h=1]IN FLANDERS FIELDS POEM
The World’s Most Famous WAR MEMORIAL POEM
By Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae [/h]
thepoem_clip_image002_0000.jpg
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead: Short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved: and now we lie
In Flanders fields!
Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you, from failing hands, we throw
The torch: be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields
Composed at the battlefront on May 3, 1915
during the second battle of Ypres, Belgium
[/TD]
[/TR]
[/TABLE]
 

Written during first World War...notice date of death.

Alan Seeger. 1888–1916

"I Have a Rendezvous with Death"

I HAVE a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death 5
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still. 10
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep 15
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear...
But I've a rendezvous with Death 20
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
 

Christina A. Sharik
MAMA, MAMA, CAN’T YOU SEE??

IWVPA Double Tap Award for War Poetry
Awarded: December 12, 2004Mama, Mama
Can’t you see
What This Army’s
Done to me?

Mama, Mama
Don’t cry tonight
I’ve gotta go,
gonna join the fight!

Mama, Mama
pray for us
We need your prayers
we need your trust.

Mama, Mama
I’ll do well ~
write to me,
while I’m in Hell.

Eye-Rak. Eye-Rak
Afghanistan
Mama, I’m
a Soldier Man.

Soldier Son, my son
I will cry
I gave you Life
and you may die

You won’t see
my sad, soft tears
I’ve been brave
for all these years!

Raising you
was left to me
Your daddy left
the family tree

Daddy, Daddy
where were You?
When our dear son
was born, and grew?

Mama, Mama,
don’t be sad
you were both
my Mom and Dad ~

Darling Son
My Soldier Man
Come back, come back
Soon as You can!

I’ll be waiting
I’ll be here
you’re with me
You’re always near.

Mama, Mama
I was shot
I’m not whole;
no, I’m not.

Mama, Mama
can’t you see
what the Army’s
done to me?

Cry for me, Mama
It’s ok
I’ll be home
somehow,
someday.

©Copyright December 2004 by Christina A. Sharik
 

unlike you, I served...
Click to expand...

Well bully for you.Me thinks picker has been giving you lessons in being a plagiarizer.Tisk Tisk.:nono:You should be ashamed of yourself.
 

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I just love the cartoons & photoshops these days :)

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