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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

This Is A Place Of Remembrance

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        Some Thoughts
 
We were with some friends the other day. Celebrating an anniversary
and breaking some bread, drinking a couple barley pops, swapping
stories and marveling that none of us ever ended up in jail or hurt
bad.
Hadn't seen Jim in awhile. He was the jarhead of our bunch. Even
after so many years you didn't have to guess that. A few tatoos, one
of which is a bulldog, a marine cover that was always atop a gray
head cropped `high and tight' and the unmistakeable carriage that
shouts `semper fi'.

This is a guy who after meeting a local gold star mom from here,
asked if she'd ever been to see her son at the wall. After she told
him she hadn't yet had the means to do that but hoped to one day, he
took out his wallet and gave her enough for her round trip ticket to
D.C. (and he's not independently wealthy) Another time he couldn't
sleep and got up in the middle of the night, went for breakfast and
ran into a soldier on leave. The young man couldn't catch a ride
till late in the morning so Jim put him in the car and drove him the
seventy miles to his momma's smiles.

That's what kind of a guy my friendmy brother is. And that's why it
hurt to hear an older man look at him and ask him a little
sarcastically"Vietnam? That was a long time ago wasn't it?"

Guess that's true enough, it was a long time ago, but knowing him for
many years now I also know it was last year, last month, and maybe
even last night.
He said nothing but I could tell it hurt him too. The older man
dropped it before telling him one of the two things I expected to
hear next, either forget about it; its'over or embrace it and live
with it.
Forgetting it is an option that Jim and so very many would give most
anything to avail themselves of butimpossible. As for embracing it,
now there's a good one! Not too tough an assignment when its already
got a 35 year death grip and liplock on you! And yet we've all
heard it before.

After witnessing this I found my thoughts going more and more to the
youngsters who are now in harms'way. Wondering if they have any idea
that they are just now taking the first few steps on an odyssey that
may never enda journey to a peace that may elude themto a world
where there are many who won't remember, understand.or care.

I hope things are different for them and I can promise that I will
never be that old man that asks"Iraq? That was a long time ago
wasn't it?"

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll embrace my God, my friends, my
family, America, and those who stand and fight with her.

Randy
©8/9/03 Randy Richmond

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I Wish I Could Do It Over Again

I wish I could do it over again

Maybe this time I would do it right.

I wish I could lead my men

Maybe this time they wouldnt have to die.

 

I wish I could tell each one how much he meant to me

Maybe this time they would believe it coming from me.

I wish I could have know then what I realize now

Maybe this time it would be different and more would come back alive.

 

I wish I could have been older, wiser and more of a man

Maybe this time it would make a difference, maybe a better plan.

I wish I could stop time and revisit the sites

Maybe this time I would see the danger and miss all that death.

 

I wish I could know that they were all o.k.

Maybe as time goes by, they will forgive me this I pray.

I wish I could have stopped the death

Maybe this time I could saved each ones lifes breath.

 

I wish I could hold on to each and every one

Maybe they didnt have to die, for they were all someones son.

I wish I could do it over again

Maybe someone can tell me why.

 

I wish I could forget the death

Maybe I could forget but their faces haunt me yet

I wish they had all come home, sometimes that makes me scream.

Maybe that is just a endless dream.

 

I wish I could do it over again

Maybe just maybe there was something I missed

I wish I could do it over again

Maybe this time I would get it right.

©David R. Alexander
August 10, 2003

 

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Memory of a soldier...(Nathaniel R Jones US ArmyPFC 1966)

BOOK!

Yer wife told me the damn story, and I just sat and cried.  Helluva
Sgt.....I.

I just hate havin to ask
Why?

I never knew you were that close behind and coverin me.

I was scared.....Book!

I feel stupid
thankin ya now

The whole FFFNNNwar was a suck Bro!

You were always
right there...
and I never
damn
thanked ya Book!

'Sorry bout that"

Damn Vietnam!



CAL

©
aug 2003 LJKlaiber

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Another War KIA

He sets in a small dirty room day after day

A bed, small table and a chair

His only processions is the dirty cloths he wears

And oh yes a military issue 45 pistol.

 

He had a wife and two sons

But after the boys grew up and left he had no reason to go on

Seems like he only forced himself to work so they would have a dad

Soon after they had gone he just left one day.

 

No word, no note, no nothing just vanished

He wandered the streets of this strange city for a while

Then he finally got his VA checks forwarded to a mail box

With the little check he pays his rent, buy some beer, a little food and cigarettes.

 

That has now been over ten years and still he sits and looks out the dirty window

He keeps an old heavy coat that he found to keep him warm

With the sleeve he wipes the window so he can see out.

Children playing in the street, traffic passing by.

 

He continues to have the nightmares and drinks himself into forgetting.

On occasion he wanders down to the street but never for long.

He day dreams about the life he had, his wife and boys.

Its better that they dont know where he is.

 

As the days turn into weeks the weeks into months, months into years

He sits and drinks, smokes and fondles the gun.

His life is over he thinks, what use am I?

As he continues to sink deeper and deeper into depression

 

Again he turns and looks out that window and sees people

People going about their lives, productive lives.

Children with hopes and dreams

BANG!!!!

©David R. Alexander

August 12, 2003


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My Brother

 

A smile, a frown one or the other

A long road, a short path, we walked together

my brother.

A slap on the back, a joke now and then

How you always lit up when you had a big grin.

 

Hard times, good times, still one or the other

We shared what we had and loved each other

my brother.

Chow, ammo, or a drink of water

To share a story or picture of your daughter.

 

Sunshine, rain, wind or sand

We once travel similar paths and God held our hand

my brother.

Dreams, thoughts and letters back home to share

To think about not going home was a thought we did not dare.

 

Day and night, night and day

The same fearful duty was ours, a price we had to pay

my brother.

Nights without sleep, days without rest

You were up to the test.

 

A friend, no more than that

Family were all were in combat

my brother.

First to lend a hand,

You were always ready to help make a stand.

 

 

On the ground or in the air

Your were one so rare

my brother.

Just a note to say thanks from us all

Through the tears I can barely see your name there upon the wall.

 

A heart felt thanks and peaceful sleep

We wish for you all from our hearts down deep

my brother.

One wipe of a tear, one lingering moment of hand on your name

I shall leave you now, for in my heart burns a flame.

 

One last thought before I leave

For you I shall continue to grieve

my brother.

But know your family is doing well

And we all in your memory dwell.

 

For you were a friend, father and more

Im sure on angel wings you soar

my brother.

Rest well and wait for we will meet again

I shall keep a watch on your family, and your death wasnt in vain.

©David R. Alexander

August 15, 2003

All Rights Reserved

 

Written in Memory of LT. Ervin "Jake" Burns

KIA June 22, 1967  Kontum, RVN

 

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Freedom's War


The sighing of the breeze of life
    speaks to the heart and soul,
And the call for Freedom echoes deep
    in the hearts of all the bold.
While the screaming eagles overhead
    swear at the Gods of War,
the footsteps of the honoured dead
    echo on the field of Freedom's War.


The taste of fear is overpowered
    as Freedom's scent arrives
upon the gentle breeze created
    by brave and honest sighs.
And the awful smell of helplessness
    is replaced; a memory nothing more
by the aroma of those brave souls
    who fought in Freedom's War.


©Anthony W. Pahl
15 August 2003

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Untitled:


Where have the years gone brothers of time
we forever look backward to give reality to rhyme
war has ruled our emotion and crippled our souls
there are yet many mysteries of truth to unfold

deep in the creases of our mind, gray matter still boils
bringing to surface the inhumanity witnessed on Vietnam soil
where bullets  rained upon us and life faded away
and we the living failed to thank God for the light of the day

mercy was non existent by both weather and man
when the monsoons came it was difficult to stand
the streams were swollen, then the sun beat us down
and the flesh that peeled from us was bloody and brown

we reflect back to the hell of our brothers demise
the screams still reverberate and we still see the eyes
so we paint our memories upon the canvas with blood
and we dip our brushes of sable in the oozing crimson flood

we reveal what we've seen in the reflections of time
back to the days of parsley, Sage , Rosemary and thyme
the innocence of our youth cloaked in jungle fatigues
and death swallowed many a young Americans dream

Where have the years gone brothers of time
we forever look backward to give reality to rhyme
war has ruled our emotion and crippled our souls
there are yet many mysteries of war....
that should never be told.

Boondocker ©8/19/2003
Richard Preston