Award from Joe

Song Playing: "Dawn"


'A' Co. 1/14th Infantry: Vietnam-'68~'70

Link to the 'Wall'


In rows at silent vigil,
They stand to face the day.
Not reflecting morning sunlight,
It's warmth in any ray.
If they could cry they'd never stop,
If they could speak, they'd scream.

And if to move, they'd leave this place,
To change, they'd change the dream.
If they had eyes to view the past,
Through granite faces cold.
They'd let the young slip through their grip,
To cradle just the old.

On fields of green at stoic pace,
They march to a lonely tune,
In time to muffled cries and tears,
Cut flowers in full bloom.

And etched into their weathered brows,
You cannot lift your eyes.
To read the names and lines thereon
Explaining not the whys.

Don't turn away and let them be,
Don't leave them in your past.
Just tuck them close to beating hearts,
The memories will last.

And if you think the task too tough,
Then ask me why I smile,
They walk beside me every day,
To every ending mile!



Don't give a damn, to much anyone no more
They weren't even there in that forgotten war
Misguided longhairs who marched in the street
Can't measure up to the grunts that I meet.

Brothers and soldiers, sons, husbands and more
Died for the Freedom of the Flag that they tore.
Black deep inscriptions cry out from 'The Wall'
From parents and sisters and children tears fall.

And who takes the time to remember them there
Not the misguided longhairs, you'd think they would care
Not politicians whose pen signed the creed
Not high and mighty still filled with the greed.

Just look down the ranks, Memorial Day's best
Saluting the memory of a Bro and his test
And even the hardest will tear up and cry
For Vietnam Brothers alone til they die.



Broken Hearts-Broken Dreams-Broken Memories, Unbroken Screams

Alone in a jungle, filled with death,

He died in action, death be the debt.

No Mother should ever hear the words,
no Father to tear apart,
What they remember of one so young,

Filled with life from the start.

Summer ball and summer dreams, summer girls with teen-age screams.

High school days were filled with glee, baseball and cars stand out to me.

Proms and college and all the rest, leaving home to stand the test.

But I returned and Jack did not, please answer this for me.

It is not fair to leave me here, his smile I still can see.

He played my sports, he knew my sister, I played catch with him some days.

A long time ago--forget that now--go on and let it lay?

If it were I, I'd always want, someone remembering me.

Broken Hearts--Broken Dreams--Broken Memory.

I'll always Remember Jack Imlah--Never to be Forgotten.

Dave Jones..1st of the 14th Infantry Batln./SSG U.S.Army R.V.N.
Jack Imlah Marine Lt. I knew him well. Rest in Peace.

Pain Beyond Belief

What must it be like to never have your sight?, or never be able to hear.

But sightless can hear the sounds of Spring, and deaf can see it near.

What then, must it be like to lose a child? I can't imagine that at all.

For the loss would be so very Great, It's mirrored upon "The Wall."

They stand in weather of all sorts, to try to see the eyes.

They stand and weep..softly so..trying to hear the cries.

What must the feeling be..I cannot know, for they'd give up sound and sight.

Just to hold them in their arms again, and tuck them in at night.

I hope I never see the day, for now and ever more.

That I lose a child..for all time,

To the ravages of War.




Most will never understand,live out their lives of dreams.

Think nightmares for the very young,

Will never hear my screams.

Will never wake in trembling fear,won't hear me yell,"Don't die!"

You'll be alright,stay down,don't move.

I'm with you now,I cry.

For every freedom that we possess,to pass to children free.

Is borne on the backs of men and women,

Monuments for us to see.

The Tomb of the Unknown, Arlington, The Wall, so many more.

Inscribed with American Heroes all,

Lost dreams in a far away War.

So understand the Vet. who cries, comfort them in their fear.

And pray that your children may never see,

What causes this Veteran's tear.



resting place

Permit Me this Brutality, to clear my thoughts complete.

Do not read on if weak of heart, a Test you cannot meet.

For this is Deep and hard to write, but written with Guilted ink.

Have you ever watched a Soldier die, through eyes that would not blink?

Then search your soul and answer this, Who gave young men a Gun?

What Politician has the right, to take away your Son?

If Ego is important, or Oil, or Turf, or Sea,

Then go yourself, put on the Gloves, don't take my Son from me!

If Blood is let upon this Soil, then Sovereign Right defend,

And I would gladly take the Gun, and stay Here 'till the End.

But for a fight they called VietNam,

But for the Korean War,

But for The Gulf, and two World Wars,

Who's Mother's hearts they tore.

A Soldier dies and it is quick- Sometimes-

Inside they die.

Like Me and untold thousands now,

Who lay awake, but why?

So take the Lesson home with you, study hard my friend.

A Test around the corner soon,

I wish all War would End!



(Drawn for me by my youngest son Greg..age 14..1997)


Can you begin to see, now what this Soldier sees.

Can you feel what he feels here.

Do you understand the cries he hears, of Friends that were so dear.

For if not, go back and read again, read deep into the lines.

And you may touch this Soldier's heart,

Leave an imprint on his mind.

For I am on your table now, your knife cuts quick and deep.

I've laid my soul in front of you,

No secrets here I keep.

I do not care if you see me cry, though Macho I may be.

And you may ask me why I write,

It releases all of me.

My purpose is not to cause you pain, by reliving long since past.

My only goal is to touch your heart,

And make that feeling last.

And when I'm gone, and no one knew,

Who I was or why.

Maybe the Eagle will remember me,

And too the Wolf may cry.


Barely Eighteen

If ever a boy should become a man
Long before his time,
And that boy should go off to war
In his very prime
Then you must know the boy gives up
So many precious things,
Like leaving his Mom or his Wife behind,
While secretly wanting to cling.

The boy stands proud, barely eighteen
And tries so hard to be brave.
With butterflies now inside his heart
As he turns around to wave.

In a foreign land he's forced to learn
How to use grenades and guns.
He dares not think of the days of old,
When he was young and full of fun.
Only one thought must fill his mind,
To protect himself and his Bros.
And no matter how much he tries to explain,
No one can truly know
What's going through the young soldiers' mind,
The horrors he has seen.
The tears he's cried when he's all alone,
As he prays on bended knee.
And when.. and if.. he comes back home,
He somehow wants to return.
Go back to the place where he became a man,
Where the Bros had true concern.

So tip your hat to all the Vets,
Welcome them all home.
And don't forget the 58,000
Who's names are carved in stone.

A Gift from Rosebud: Please visit her POW/MIA Web-site.

Why does it feel so good to remove a weight from your shoulders, that no one else can see,

Simply by writing what comes from your heart?

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