A Soldier’s Silent Night: Merry Christmas my friend


Twas 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 dwelling did live.
As I looked all around, a strange sight to see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking on the mantle, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
Medals and badges, awards of every kind,
a sobering thought came alive in my mind.
This house was different, it was dark, it was dreary.
I had found the home of a soldier, I could see that most clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping silent, alone.
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.
His face was so gentle, room in such disorder,
Not at all how I pictured a U.S. soldier.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho, a floor for a bed?
Then I realized the other families that I saw this night
Out there lies the soldiers who are willing to fight.
In the morning around the world, children would play
Grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day
But they all enjoyed freedom, each month through the year,
because of soldiers like the one lying here.

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If-


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise: Read more

The Tiger


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The Charlie Tigers 1968

We saw his prints by the riverbed that day 
And were amazed by their size 
An eerie vibe hung in the air 
Like we were being stalked with his eyes!

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In Country


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They began to arrive in ’64,
Marines and Army, coming to shore.
They arrived in Quinhon and Camron Bay,
They came to fight, but not to stay.

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Fly


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He looks out through watchful eyes 
Soaring through the brilliant skies 
Spending his day in quiet thought 
Looking for the peace he sought 
Gliding through the clouds so calm 
The wind carrying his gently sung psalm 
As he sings he looks down below 
Sees the things the world has to show 
And in his heart he knows his place 
Down there running the warrior’s race 
He was made to lead in the strife 
Placed there to help in life 
But for know he rests in the sky 
Sometimes he needs a break, needs to fly

by Aric Beers

Image source


Inspired by War: Vietnam


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Soldier in Vietnam

The poetry which follows here was written by combat veterans. It was inspired by the anguish of just living or trying to stay alive in the midst of combat and the pitiful conditions of life in a war torn country that was thousands of miles away from home. Strong bonds of brotherhood were created under these conditions, along with many fears, pains, and visions not witnessed before… nor since.

Don’t read this stuff fast… it needs to be thunk about.
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The Vigil


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SGT of the Guard, inspecting Sentinel's weapon at Tomb of the Unknown Soldier changing of the guards

In measured steps he makes in rounds.
The click of heels the only sounds.
He stands erect so straight and tall,
With pride and dedication responds to the call.
With deep affection his vigil keeps,
Over those who forever sleep.
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Young Men


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Vietnam War Memorial

In quiet dignity they trudge
With only the slurping sounds
Of jungle boots sucking mud
As they carry their burden
Of expendable youth at war.
There is a poise about them,
A quality not found in peers,
A bearing common only
To young men in combat.

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Farther from Hope


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A file of soldiers on a routine jungle patrol. Most soldiers wore towels around their necks, like this one did, to help combat sweat in the jungle heat. Names, date, and location unknown.

Each day of war takes us farther from all we could hope to be or do. We gain nothing but heartbreak, and lose everything we cherish. Our lives erode and diminish, our children see no future except a calendar of anguish and death. Our only hope for tomorrow is for peace now.

Lloyd Alexander

I’m Just a Soldier


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I Am Soldier

I’m headed to Iraq
I guess I will see you when I get back
I already miss you
I just wish I could kiss you
I will be back before you know it
I hope you know I love you even though I don’t show it
Now I am just a soldier fighting for what I think is right
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Tattered Flag


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It’s seen the birth of many states
It’s served us well in many wars
Stars and Stripes banding together
In remembrance of what we’re fighting for. Read more

Marines: Stand Tall


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Marines of Marjah

This was written by a fellow blogger here on WordPress. You can visit his blog here: Short stories by Barry Wax.
Thank you Barry for sharing this with me.

I wrote this for you and hope you like it and will share it if you think it has meritYou are the Valentine of the service man.  Keep up the good work.

You want the job done and it requires sacrifice and courage,

Men and women who will go to the wall with an ounce of encourage.

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Night


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The M42 tank's .50-caliber machine guns up fire - lighting up the hills. The soldiers didn't know there the sniper was - they were hoping to hit him with the massive barrage

Asian moon
Swims fathomless deep.
Star-rivers course
Boundless banks
Of Stygian stream.
Pin-prick flares
Man-made suns,
Spawn brilliant
Glow, sigh, and slowly die
In the black.
Red embers,
Green glows, trace silent
Warplane’s
Distant flight.
Death sparkles
Brilliant diamond
Artillery flashes
Dancing, darting,
To distant drums.

Curt Bennett
Copyright Curt Bennett © 2003

Shipmates


These are the men that sailed with me
In the Colonies clipper
Mary Ambree
.

These are the men that kept her going
Through the fog and the ice and the big gales blowing:
Skipper and bosun, mates and sails,
Tough as leather and hard as nails,
Wise in the ways of seas and ships,
Soaked in brine to the finger-tips.

These are the chaps that toiled together
In Trade and Doldrum and black Horn weather:
Stood their trick on a beggarly whack
Of junk and limejuice and mouldy tack,
Scoured and holystoned, reefed and furled,
Watch and watch round the whole wet world,
Hauled and sweated at sheets and braces
With the sun in their eyes or the sleet in their faces,
Fought and fisted the frozen courses
On footropes jumping like bucking horses.

These are the men that sailed and manned,
Worked her and drove her from land to land,
Most of ’em gone, as the ships are gone,
For times must change, as the old words run,
And men change with ’em, we know full well;
For worse or for better? Time will tell.
This only is certain – ships and men,
We never shall build their likes again.

Second to None


afghan-war-marine-on-patrol-in-nabuk

He stands tall
He stands proud
In a foreign country
Among a foreign crowd

He leaves his family
He leaves his home
To fight for our rights
A new land he’ll roam

He agrees to sacrifice
For his Country and God
All that he knows
With barely a nod

He withstands the heat
Death and despair
So we may carry on
With little a care

His days are long
His responsibilities many
But when asked what he needs
He says “I don’t need any”

To hear his voice
To see his face
Any time
Any place

These are times
I treasure most
Before he has
To return to his post

The quick hello
That all-knowing smile
This man before me
Going the extra mile

Counting the days
Until his return
Each and every hour
I wish to burn

My Love for him
From the very start
Filled every depth
Of my heart

He’s one of the best
And second to none
He is a Marine
HE IS MY SON

via: facebook