So they come to us in pain and agony.
Shorn of their boyhood John Wayne dreams of glory, mud, battle.
These warriors, these few mighty warriors,
Reduced in their age but still to fight,
In their dreams,
their daily lives.
Pierced by hot velocity lead,
Claymores spit their scars of money for the profiteers of war
Who cloak themselves in the guise of patriotism and protection of the
motherland.
Yet no innocents these my fine young men. Killed or killing,
Died or dying,
They know the crack and thump and hiss of life and death and war.
These are my comrades,
Though I know not of war
But all too much of their pain.
David McCullough
1 comment:
Well spoken my young brother.. you may not have known their war.. but you see its affects on a daily basis.. don't ever discount what you did during that war.. you served.. what you did was as important as anyone who served during Vietnam.. You are my brother.........
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