We were honorable.
We were noble.
We fought the good fight.

We went...
We didn't ask why
Our Country called...
And we were proud.

Welcome Home.

FROM THE OTHER SIDE
By Patrick Camunes

At first there was no place for us to go until someone put up that Black Granite Wall. Now, everyday and night, my Brothers and my Sisters wait to see the many people from places afar file in front of this Wall. Many stopping briefly and many for hours and some that come on a regular basis. It was hard at first, not that it's gotten any easier, but it seems that many of the attitudes towards that war that we were involved in have changed. I can only pray that the ones on the other side have learned something and more Walls as this one needn't be built. Several members of my unit and many that I did not recognize have called me to the Wall by touching my name that is engraved upon it. The tears aren't necessary but are hard even for me to hold back. Don't feel guilty for not being with me, my Brothers. This was my destiny as it is yours, to be on that side of the Wall.

As I see them walk off in the distance, I yell out to THEM and EVERYONE there today, as loud as I can,.........THANKS FOR REMEMBERING and as others on this side of the Wall join in, I notice that the US Flag that so proudly flies in front of us everyday, is flapping and standing proudly straight out in the wind today.................................. THANK YOU ALL FOR REMEMBERING........

The Wall

In Washington D.C. a monument stands
to those who lost their lives in Vietnam
Their names are carved in black granite.
The survivors named it... the Wall
This story is dedicated to all those heros and we pledge we'll never forget..

I saw him standing all alone
that night staring at the wall
There were so many names to try and read
But he searched through them all

Then he spotted a wilted flower
That someone had wedged in a tiny crack
It was by a name that he seemed to know
He smiled as he stepped back

Then I watched him reach out and touch the flower with a calloused hand,
with tears in his eyes he whispered
God, help me understand
He was a lonely soldier drifting from day to day
caught in between two worlds trying to find his way
Somebody's restless hero
Making his final call
He had a special reason for coming ...to the Wall.

I walked up and asked his name
He told me "I'm Billy Rowe"
He was dressed in a ragged uniform
Said he fought in Vietnam a long, long time ago

He said,"My life has been so confusing" But I'm trying to make the change
It's just I miss my wife so very much
Then what he said seemed strang

He said"You know, all my old friends are here
I can see now the time is finally right
Then he turned and said goodbye to me and walked into the night
I felt a force pull me to the Wall
to tell me something I should know
and the I saw that wilted flower as it begin to grow

I could now plainly see the name from so many years ago
one of many killed in Vietnam Private Billy Rowe
I guess for some it's not easy the love they have lives on
But that night Pvt. Billy Rowe Finally found his home

He was a lonely soldier drifting from day to day
caught in between two worlds trying to find his way
Somebody's restless hero
Making his final call
He had a special reason for coming ...to the Wall.

Who is This Man?
By Eric Freeland

He is a “veteran” who wore his uniform proudly-
He has a story to tell of his days in hell,
and of cannons that roar yet loudly.

He is a brother, a son, a father –
who will give his life to save another,
and will fight to defend his country’s flag –
Until nothings left but a tattered rag.

Armed with Honor and Pride
when he took his battlefield ride.
On the wings of an aviator,
arrived a warrior, left a Gladiator-

He is a “Vet”, what you see is what you get-
For years denied his glory,
Now fights the tears when he tells his story.

He is a man who once knew freedoms joy-
The innocent laughter of a little boy,
now looks at life through jaded glasses-
and sheds a tear with every parade that passes,
gallantly he salutes with faint despair
to shade the gaze of his thousand mile stare.

You know this man he is a hero.

Another Soldier Died Today

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 once fought in
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies;
They were heroes, every one.

And 'tho sometimes to his neighbors
His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened quietly
For they knew where of he spoke.

But we'll hear his tales no longer,
For 01' Bob has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer
For a Soldier died today.

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,
Going quietly 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?

If we cannot do him honor
While he's here to hear the praise,
Then a least let's give him homage
At the ending of his days.

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 often disproportionate,
To the service that 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 is so many times
That our Bobs and Jims and Johnnys,
Went to battle, but we know,

Its 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
His home, his country,
his kin, Just a common Soldier,
Who 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
We find the Soldier's part
Is it clean up all the troubles
That the politicians start.

Perhaps just a simple headline
In the Paper that might say:

"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING,
A SOLDIER DIED TODAY."

The Wall

I watch a Vet, deep in thought, pain across his face.
He walks a mother to the wall; he's taken his friend's place.
She reaches out to touch a name, the one that was her son.
They pause together in the rain, their memories a bond.

The men who fought, the men who died, their names for all to see
Their lives so brief, fallen short, a page in history.
We can't forget what they had done, so many years ago.
Sacrifices they have made the bravery they showed.

I walked along that long black wall, crying in the rain.
For all those men who've touched our lives, we'll never see again.

by Catherine Anne McNeill

An Open Letter To A Terrorist

Well, you hit the World Trade Center, but you missed America.
You Hit the Pentagon, but you missed America.
You use helpless American bodies to take out other American bodies,
but like a poor marksman, you STILL missed America.

Why? Because of something you guys will never understand.
America isn't about a building or two, not about financial centers,
not about military centers.
American isn't about a place. American isn't even about a bunch of bodies.

America is about an IDEA.

An idea, that you can go some place where you can earn as much as you can
figure out how to, live for the most part, like you envisioned living,
and pursue Happiness (no guarantees that you'll reach it,
but you can sure try!) go ahead and whine your terrorist whine,
and chant your terrorist litany:
"if you can not see my point, then feel my pain."

This concept is alien to Americans.

We live in a country where we don't have to see your point.
But you're free to have one. We don't have to listen to your speech.
But you're free to say one.
Don't know where you got the strange idea that everyone has to agree with you.

We don't agree with each other in this country, almost as a matter of pride.
We're a collection of people that don't agree, called States.
We united our individual states to protect ourselves from tyranny in the world.

Another idea we made up on the spot.

You CAN make it up as you go, when it's your country -- if you're
free enough! People start to forget that when you attack Americans,
they tend to fight like a cornered badger.

The first we knew of the War of 1812, was when England burned Washington D.C. to the ground.

Didn't turn out like England thought it was going to, and it's not going to turn out like you think, either.

Sorry, but you're not the first bully on our shores, just the most recent.

We were the FIRST and so far, only country in the world to use nuclear weapons in anger.

Horrific idea, nowadays? News for you bucko, it was back then too, but we used it anyway.

Only had two of them in the whole world and we used 'em both.

Grandpa Jones worked on the Manhattan Project.
Told me once, that right up until they pulled the switch,
the physicists were still arguing over
whether the Uranium alone would fission, or whiter it would start a fissioning
chain reaction that would eat everything.

But they threw the switch anyway, because we had a War to win.

Does that tell you something about American Resolve?
So who just declared War on us?

It would be nice to point to some real estate, like the good old days.
Unfortunately, we're probably at war with random camps, in far-flung places.

Who think they're safe.... better start sleeping with one eye open.

There's a spirit that tends to take over people who come to this country,
looking for opportunity.
Looking for liberty, lolling for freedom -- even if they misuse it.

You guys seem to be incapable of understanding that we don't live in America,
America lives in US! American Spirit is what it's called.

And killing a few thousand of us, or a few million of us, won't change it.
Most of the time, it's a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of Spirit.
Until we're crossed in a cowardly manner, then it becomes an entirelydifferent kind of Spirit.

Wait until you see what we do with that Spirit, this time.

Sleep tight, if you can.

We're coming.

By Charles Brennan

Wish You Were Here

For all the free people that still protest:
You’re welcome.
We protect you and you are protected by the best.
Your voice is strong and loud,
but who will fight for you?
No one standing in your crowd.
We are your fathers, brothers and sons,
wearing the boots and carrying guns.
We are the ones that leave all we own,
to make sure your future is carved in stone.
We are the ones who fight and die.
We might not be able to save the world,
Well, at least we try.
We walk the paths to where we are at,
and we want no choice other than that.
So when you rally your group to complain,
I take a look at the back of your brain.
In order for that flag you love to fly,
wars must be fought and young men must die.
We came here to fight for the ones we hold dear,
If that’s not respected, we would rather stay here.
So please stop yelling, put down your signs,
and pray for those behind enemy lines.
When the conflict is over and all is well,
be thankful that we chose to go through hell."

Written by Joshua Miles and all the boys from 3rd Battalion 2nd Marines, Kuwait

.

She's A Veteran Too

She held onto the hands, of a thousand dying men
Praying and never leaving, 'til she knew, it was the end
She was help from feeling lonely, and being so afraid
Countless young warriors past by her way, now only their faces have stayed

She falls asleep, with tears in her eyes
So few, can understand why she trembles, and why she cries
She needs someone to hold her. someone to dry the tears
And to take away those memories, that have haunted her for years

She works in a hospital nursery now, holding to the newborn life
Praying for an end to all wars, the suffering and the strife
The faces of the young warriors, are now changed to a newborns smile
And she remembers the men, as she cradles a child, how they blest her life, for awhile.

by Jon Christenson, Viet Nam Veteran, Marine

The Vietnam Veteran

Some say he’s a drunk and bum
It seems they don’t care, where he’s been
Or what he may have done
He faces each new day, as he did the last
With terrifying memories, of twenty years past
Robbed of his youth, in Vietnam
Because he answered the call, of his Uncle Sam
As his comrades died, around him each day
He would beg for peace, as he knelt to pray

Returning home, when America was cold and bitter
Branded a murderer and baby killer
Condemned and despised, for what he believed
Dying alone in a ditch, no one cared, no one grieved
Used and abused by a Country he still loves
Trying to get in line, but everyone still shoves.

by Jon Christenson, Vietnam Veteran, Marine

A Tribute To Veterans

In Vietnam, Korea and World Wars Past
Our Men Fought Bravely so Freedom Would Last
Conditions Where Not Always Best They Could Be
Fighting a Foe You Could Not Always See:

From Mountain Highs to Valley Lows
From Jungle Drops to Desert Patrols

Our Sinewy Sons Were Sent Over Seas
Far From Their Families And Far From Their Dreams
They Never Wrote Letters Of Hardships Despair
Only Of Love, Yearning That One Day Soon:

They Would Come Home, They Would Resume
And Carry On With The Rest of Their Lives

The P.O.W.¹S Stood Steadfast
Against the Indignities And Cruelties Of War
They Could Not Have Lasted as Long as They Did
If They Had Relinquished Their Hope That Some Day:

They Would Come Home, They Would Resume
And Carry On the Rest Of Their Lives

Medics, Nurses, and Chaplains Alike
Did What They Needed To Bring Back Life
They Served Our Forces From Day Into Night
Not Questioning If They Would Survive:

They Mended Bones And Bodies Too,
They Soothed the Spirits of Dying Souls

And for Those M.I.A¹S, Who Were Left Behind
We Echo This Message Across the Seas
We Will search For as Long As It Takes
You¹re Not Forgotten And Will Always Be:

In Our Hearts, In Our Prayers,
In Our Minds For All Time

A Moment of Silence, a Moment of Summons
Is Their Deliverance of Body And Soul
To a Sacred Place That We All Know
Deep In the Shrines of Our Soul:

In Our Hearts, In Our Prayers
In Our Minds For All Time

INTERLUDE:
GOLD STAR MOTHERS GRIEVE: ENDLESSLY,
ENDLESSLY, ENDLESSLY.......

These Immortalized Soldiers Whose Bravery Abounds
They¹re Our Husbands, Fathers, and Sons
They Enlisted For the Duty at Hand
To Serve the Cause of Country and Land:

They Had Honor, They Had Valor,
They Found Glory That Change Them Forever

Men Standing Tall and Proud They be
A Country Behind Them in a Solemn Sea
So Let the Flags of Freedom Fly
Unfurled in Their Majesty High:

In the Sun, In the Rain
In the Winds Across This Land

Years of Tears Has Brought Us Here
Gathering Around to Hear This Sound
So Let the Flags of Freedom Fly
Unfurled in Their Majesty High:

In the Sun, In the Rain,
In the Winds Across This Land

REPEAT:

In the Sun, In the Rain,
In the Winds For All Time

Jerry Calow (copyright 2003 )