Writings Of Boondockers Poetic Justice Members
PAGE 32
Home
page 2
Page 3
page 4
Page 5
page 6
PAGE 7
PAGE 8
PAGE 9
PAGE 10
PAGE 11
PAGE 12
PAGE 13
Page 14
PAGE 15
PAGE 16
PAGE17
PAGE18
PAGE 19
PAGE 20
PAGE 21
PAGE 22
Page 23
Page 24
PAGE 25
PAGE 26
PAGE 27
Page 28
PAGE 29
PAGE 30
PAGE 31
PAGE 32
PAGE 33
Page34
PAGE 35
PAGE 36
PAGE 37
PAGE 38
PAGE 39
Page 40
PAGE 41
PAGE 42
PAGE43
Page44
PAGE 45
PAGE 46
PAGE47
PAGE 48
Page49
PAGE 50
PAGE 51
PAGE 52
PAGE 53
PAGE 54
PAGE 55
PAGE 56
PAGE 58
PAGE 58
PAGE 57
Site Awards
Lighter Side Of BPJ
Lighter Side #2
Lighter Side #3
LIGHTER SIDE#4
4TH OF JULY 2003
THE KOREAN WAR REMEMBERED /July 27,1953-July27,2003 50 years

poppatrain.gif

Night Train

 

In late of 1967, I was given a break. I was told that I had been in the bush long enough to be able to transfer to base camp. I was ready, to get some of the good living at base camp in An Khe.  My Colonel told me that they had an opening in Special Services if I wanted it.

It took me all of 2 seconds to accept, hell handing out ping-pong balls and a bed to sleep in at night, cold beer, hot showers and clean cloths. Lead me to it.

I went in on a chopper, and landed at the Golf Course (An Khe air field) and smiled all the way to Division HQ.

Upon arrival I reported to the Assistant Division Commander, a bird Colonel. Strange how I never suspected a thing.

He told me to go down the hall and report to S-2, which I did. Upon getting to S-2 I had this uneasy feeling, why S-2.

Oh well handing out ping-pong balls and swim trunks was o.k. with me.

 

I was told that I should get a shower, clean cloths and would be escorted to a place to sleep and then to the Officers Club. I did these in a kinda reverse order but got them done anyway.

 

Next morning I was awakened by a Sergeant Major and told that I was to report back to S-2. Now I was a little suspicious, S-2, ping-pong balls?

 

Because I had a Top Secret Crypto security clearance and had attended the Jungle Operations School in Panama I would be in Special Services o.k.  But not with ping-pong balls. I was to be assigned to Special Services as an American Advisor to allied troops. Now I was getting the picture.

 

I wont go into specific missions but several missions were to make a certain village mayor or chief friendly.  They always were when we left.

 

I worked with Australians, Turks, Koreans, South Vietnamese (ARVN) and others always with an interrupter except when with the Australians and sometimes I could have used one when with them.

 

I would go with usually a squad size element and the missions would vary like I said but the person we were to convince to be friendly always was when we left.

 

After a couple of months of this duty, with little or no break I was tired and awfully sleepy on night while in the middle of the jungle and waiting for choppers to pick us up after one of these missions I was able to get some sleep.

 

No sooner had I lay my head down and was asleep than a strange noise could be heard a train whistle, yes a train whistle.  I sit up and the head light of the train hit me right in the eyes. Now a train in the middle of the jungle with no rails is strange right? The light was so bright that we were fully exposed, we all just watched as this train came right by us.

As it did I could see the engineer and the fireman plain as day, but they werent ordinary they were half skeleton, flesh hanging off of them and ragged uniforms they paid us no mind and kept on moving slowly by. 

 

Behind the engine was a passenger car and at every window was one of my men that had been killed, looking at me, they too were half skeleton with flesh hanging from different parts of their bodies.


I was scared, really scared.  The last car had a platform and on the platform was the biggest shock of all.  My friend and mentor 1st Lt. Ervin Jake Burns was standing on the platform waving a lantern. .

 

I yelled and screamed for the train to stop but it kept moving slowly along.

 

Suddenly, from nowhere comes  wake up Lt. wake up.  Its daylight, time to go.

 

It was a dream a strange dream and I have had the same dream many times sense then, always with Jake standing on the last platform.

 

The dream is a dream the story is true.

 

ęDAVID RAY ALEXANDER, SR.

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

Night Train

 

Tired, wet and hungry

Just a place to lie down and rest.

Finally a small dry spot in the jungle

Taking turns with watch.

 

I taking one of the first watches

Finally relief and asleep before I realize it.

From nowhere there is a light, a strong light

And a noise I hadnt heard in nearly a year.

 

I rise up and look around and through the jungle comes a train

Yes a train, a steam engine with rail cars behind

Im startled and cant believe the sight.

As I sit up and stare in disbelief it comes closer and closer.

 

Looking around we are all not only startled but scared

A train in the middle of the jungle?

As it comes closer I can see the engineer and the fireman

Tattered clothing and nothing but skeletons.

 

My senses are alive and alert, but this is a train from nowhere

As the train moves past there are two passenger cars attached.

In each window there is a skeleton, a skeleton of a man I have lost.

Tears flow, I yell, but I can not stop the train.

 

And finally as it passes on the last car

On the deck at the very end of the train

My friend and mentor, a mere skeleton,

But it is, it is JAKE

 

Wake up Lieutenant its daylight.

I am startled, scared and drained of emotion.

Yes it was a dream, a dream of all those that died

The ones that were entrusted to me.

 

I have let them down,

I have not done my job well enough.

When again Im reminded of those words of one of the dead

You did your best Lieutenant, my dying isnt your fault.

 

This maybe, but that dream isnt one that I only had in the jungle

It is a dream that comes again and again.

A night train going nowhere

Filled with my brothers that have gone on to wait for us all.

 

ęDavid R. Alexander

July 15, 2003

All Rights Reserved

poppatrainbywoody.jpg

Horizontal Divider 1

wallnrose.jpg

Who Can Answer These Questions?

 

Who said we cant?

Who said we werent good enough?

Who said we dont have the will?

Who said we wont fight?

 

Was it longhaired, maggot infested, stoned, hippies?

Was it Mommas boys with school deferments?

Was it rich kids with the money to buy their way out?

Was it scared, Canadian running cowards?

 

Why did congress stop supporting, not the war, but the fighting men and women?

Why did the people back home hate us?

Why did we fight this war?

Why did the Vietnam people not want us there?

 

Was it lies, political power and greed?

Was it promises made that were not kept?

Was it underestimating the enemy?

Was it politicians unwilling to support the very ones fighting for them?

 

Why was the War not supported?

Why did we not finish what we were able to do?

Why did some of us not come home?

Why did some of us come home and never found home again?

 

All of the questions, none of the answers.

Over 50,000 names on a black stone wall.

Money, money, money the root of evil.

But the dead are just as dead.

 

ęDavid R. Alexander

July 30, 2003

All Rights Reserved

 

stolenfromtony.jpg

She Will Accompany Me
 
While sitting in this bog,
Not mud but in my mind.
Who would dare to inter this dark world?
Maybe another veteran with similar ghost.
 
Walking along a lonely path,
Not in the park but in my mind.
Who would walk along by my side?
Maybe a friend that would travel with me.
 
Lying here under this cloud,
Not in the sky but in my mind
Who will make sure it doesnt rain?
Maybe a brother or sister could stop the wet.
 
Sweating here in this heat
Not in the desert but in my mind
Who will wipe my brow?
Maybe a passing traveler would hand me a rag.
 
Screaming out in the night
Not in war but in my mind
Who will comfort me?
Only one on this earth my wife.
 
Through all of these things
She has accompanied me.
She who has a gentle touch and understanding smile
She will accompany me, my angel, my love, my wife.

ęDavid R. Alexander
August 1, 2003
All Rights Reserved
 

Enter content here

Enter supporting content here