This is a place of remembrance
Blood Brothers
We joined together one by one, the 'Bad Boys', from just about everywhere.
A small squad of 'blood brothers' ......a platoon north of prejudice, .....a company formed together and all ...gone to Vietnam.
Where 'Billy Yank and Johnny Reb', stood arm and arm together, day after day, and side by side with the 'Bloods', of Africa ....the courage of the men of Puerto Rico, ..the Nisei, The young men of old tribes.
The Indians who hold the memories within this land .......that somehow, has blessed us all.
Who? Today! .....would dare to say that we were not brothers?
Who, among the cowards who hid in closets of privelege, ...who shouted within the emptiness of themselves, against us, could have done ...........one, ...just one, tour of duty in that place we called 'the Nam'.....?
©LouJKlaiberDec142992

One Not To Forget
While only in Nam a short while
He was one all could count on and had style
He was a friend to all he met
And I miss him even yet.
A fine young officer and family man
Always had time to stop and lend a hand.
Arrived in Nam in sixty seven
Less than six months he was on his way to heaven.
Leaving behind two young daughters and a wife
Many friends and family to deal with the strife.
Not enough time for a good bye or a letter home
Never again would he be allowed with his family to roam.
Leading his men into a combat situation
Finding an enemy waiting in ambush from a different nation.
Directing their fight with leadership and courage
Outnumbered he didnt show his discourage.
Over his head death did loom
In a place called Kontum.
The twenty second of June nineteen sixty seven
A husband, father, and my friend was winging his way to heaven.
His name might be important to you
But to his family and me he was one of the best men we ever knew.
First Lieutenant Ervin L. Jake Burns
A true hero at ever turn.
So if you will help me remember him and what he did
For like so many others he received little and going home he was forbid.
Like many others for you Im sure
He left a nagging pain for which there is no cure.
© David R. Alexander
December 14, 2002
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Another Christmas Without Him
A daughter left behind
A daughter of a friend of mine
No neglect on his part
She was a big piece of his heart.
A daughter of only seven years old
A daughter in need of someone to hold
Not for me as it turns out
For I couldnt find her no matter how loud I would shout.
My friend was KIA in Vietnam
A mixture of bullets and a bomb
A request of me before he died
And a promise to keep how I tried and tried.
For over thirty years of searching and wonder
When finding her she was a wonderful mother
Too old for me too comfort and to hold
But young enough of her father to be told.
Her dad loved her, her mom and her sister
And dont say a word against him mister.
He was my friend and good soldier too
Its just he gave his life for me and for you.
One fell swoop took him away
And the angels must have cried on that day.
He had a heart of pure gold
So the Lord must have needed him in his heavenly fold.
This is such a small tribute
And little else can I contribute
Except to say now that I have found his daughter
I will spend whatever time it takes to tell her of her father.
Just a verse by an unworthy hand
To let all know about this man
Lt. Ervin L. "Jake" Burns on this Christmas will have been gone for 35 years
His family, friends and me have shed 35 million tears.
©David R. Alexander December 15, 2002
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Remembrance Parade
Parade, ATTEN-SHUN!
To the front, SALUTE!
and the clicking eyeballs,
the snapping of air
as thousands of hands and arms moved as one
was heard in heaven
and the wind sighed.
glistening eyes heralded the rain
©Anthony W. Pahl 16 December 2002

Marching By
Here they come momma
Here come the soldiers
Look momma look
They sure are sharp in their uniforms
Here they come momma
Here come the flags at the front
Look momma look
They are all stepping at the same time.
Here they come momma
Here come the soldiers with their rifles
Look momma look
Ive never seen so many guns in my life.
Here they come momma
Here come, oh wait, they are old
Look momma look
They cant be soldiers, so old and gray.
Here they come Johnny
They are soldiers ,son, and they are veterans
Look Johnny look
Those are the men that fought and kept us free.
Here they come Johnny
Those are men to be respected by you and me
Look Johnny look
See how proud they are and how much they gave for our country.
Here they come everyone
So proud everyone, veterans and todays soldiers alike
Look everyone look
Doesnt everyones heart now swell with gratitude and pride?
There they go momma
One is in a wheel chair another is being led because he is blind
Look momma look
When I grow up I will thank them for you and me.
© David Alexander
December 15,2002
All Rights Reserved
 Standing Together
There is one thing that holds us together
Never mind the hardships and the weather,
A time when we fought and depended on each other to survive
And that is the cord that helped us stay alive.
Regardless if we were enlisted or officer rank
We only had each other to thank.
For the most part the world didnt give a damn
For those of us that were sent to Vietnam
Now that we have grown older and see with different eyes
For the most part we agree that the governments were full of lies.
We werent political, nor maybe should we have been
So we only depended on each other and each was more than a friend.
With each passing year I am reminded of each and every one
Some are still with us and others war is done.
With each passing year we must remember all
Because we are all getting closer to the Masters call.
Where you are take a minute to recall
We are all in the same boat big or small
I now render a hand salute to each with humble heart
And to each my brotherly love and gratitude I impart.
© David R. Alexander
December 16, 2002
All Rights Reserved
Doug Jones
A Farewell. . . . .
Restless Night
"it's just us, sarge" (...laughter) "go back to bed" (...more soft laughter)
It is never a dream....anymore.
First...it was one. then another... three, now four.
A pale moon A cold breeze A walk at 3 AM.
Never a dream anymore.
"go back to bed sarge!" "it's just us!"
...................................................................... .............
The crows are calling the dawn as they carry the restless night, ...home once more.
'Old Soldier' things they carry, .....across the sky.
Voices!.. .....laughter! ...night things upon their wings.
...................................................................... ...........................
And never far behind are moments,
riding beneath the slapping blades of an old 'steel bird', dreaming itself ..an LZ called home.
The day is waiting upon the promise of sundown.
Sunset! ...and voices, restless again, for another night.
"Its just us, Sarge!"
©LJKlaiber 12182002
(RedCowboy) 
JONESIE Born 1948 Macon ,Georgia 1st Bn 1st Marines 1st Marine Div 1968 WIA June 1968 Died 3AM Dec 18 2002 Hand Salute! CAL
For A Departing Warrior
There are still vacant seats
waiting in the great halls of Valhalla
from which are told brave feats.
One by one these are filled now
by the valiant warriors we have known.
Gallantly they served their nation.
Their names are written there
and they are awaited in celebration
for the honor of their presence.
Goblets are filled and ready to be raised.
Let their memory be praised.
Their fanfare is our tears
and the sounds of our good byes
©Faye Sizemore
December 18, 2002 
The Legacy of a Veteran
He walked upon earth with peace and freedom in his heart and smiled the smile of grace until from his mortal life did part.
He left behind a solemn gift for the entire the world to know; that the seeds of freedom bloom, nurtured by those who sow.
He knew the agony and pain of war, in his body, mind and soul and steadfastly resolved that love and honour must be told.
As his body succumbed to the need to pass from mortal life, a candle flickered softly, and exposed his gift of love to light.
©Anthony W. Pahl
19 December 2002

Drifting
For more years than I care to remember
My memories have kept me company January through December.
For those that came home but didnt survive
Those that lived but were not alive.
Many coasted through day by day
Never letting anyone get in their way.
Not letting anyone in
They would never get that close to anyone again.
Seeing death with its finality
Feeling loss because of familiarity
Brothers dropping like drops of rain
No more, no more never again.
Their lives were never the same as before
Because of death, carnage and gore.
Shutting out the world around them was an escape
Letting memories their lives shape.
When finally leaving this world
Only brothers understood why their lives were so furled.
So in passing we stand and stare
Only another warrior could understand or maybe even care.
As one brother passes to heaven above
Remember him with understanding and love
For on this earth he never understood
We were always there if he had let us in if only he could.
Drifting from memory to benediction
This was his only conviction.
Say a prayer for this lonesome soul
That now he will find peace and once again be made whole.
©David R. Alexander December 19, 2002
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Will Anyone Remember?
In say fifty years or so
When you and I are either dead or very old
Will anyone remember the war in which we fought?
Or will anyone care about the freedom we sought?
Will wars of future years our memories obscure?
Will the youth and soldiers of that time hearts be pure?
Maybe their wars will be different from ours
Will they still fight for the stripes and stars?
Will the government still be the same?
Fighting wars and its always someone else to blame.
Will our Grandchildren and theirs still be going off to be killed?
Or will the earth be a place of happiness and with love be filled?
Something for which to ponder
As you and I cross over yonder.
Will anyone still remember you and I and our fight?
I dont suppose it really matters after we say our last good night.
©David R. Alexander
December 19, 2002
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The Brave {for all my brothers}
I have never known such fear as that night long ago, stumbling, trembling, hearing rumblings of war far away.
My mouth so dry ..and wanting to cry.
Closing the distance into war, and so afraid.
The Moon shone down upon us shadows, moving out, ...and the brave were ahead of me moving silently into the night.
It was then I knew that war is common brotherhood.
Common courage from common men.
I was part of them. I was all of them ...and would have died for them.
©LJKlaiber December2002
 My Worst Nightmare
In the summer of 1967 in a place called Vietnam
My worse memory happened and shapes some of what I am.
This is the first time I have put on paper the story of that night,
Because of the tragedy and the horrible loss of life.
About this time of year I seem to remember so much more,
The brothers in this battle and those later and before.
As I start to tell this story that happens to be true
For those of you that read it, it will mean something to.
After being in the boonies for neigh onto two weeks,
Food and water dropped in and with very little sleep.
I as acting Company Commander was glad to get the news
Move into the Artillery compound, for rest, food and snooze.
We arrived around noon on that faithful day
Took over for another company that had a three-day stay.
All were so tired and grateful for the rest
Took over the perimeter and settled in for sleep and food at best.
The little compound had all the comforts that one could expect
Food, showers but sleep was our main object.
When dawn began to fall late in the day
Guard duty assigned and everyone grateful for a short stay.
Off in the distance a strange and eerie sound
Horns no trumpets blasting as if to surround.
Strange and distant as they were
A feeling of uncertainty and fear was what they inferred.
Made a call to Battalion to inquire as to the cause
No information on the meaning and that gave us pause.
The sounds got louder and seemed to be on the move
Called to ask for Chopper support our state of mind to improve.
Rain and fog had moved in and the choppers were grounded
And they assured us that our fears were unfounded.
For hours the blast became closer and louder
Our nerves were on edge, but each man I couldnt have been prouder.
About midnight with the rain pounding down
The blasting of the horns stopped and a mortar round hit the ground.
All of a sudden the perimeter lit up as the flares were tripped.
Gunfire, grenades and screams through the night did rip.
The artillery searchlight on the hill lit the area all around
What seemed like thousands of enemy crawling on the ground
We opened up with fire and all that we had,
Too close for the Artillery that made it bad.
Told the RTO to call for help as the enemy strength had been shown
Due to the weather, hold what youve got tonight you are on your own.
Shortly after that the light was shot out
Then the enemy began with deafening sound began to shout.
Fighting sometimes hand to hand
My men and brothers made a heroic stand.
We kept closing the perimeter and in size it did shrink
Screams in the night, what an awful sound, but not one brother did blink.
Almost six hours later the enemy broke contact and the rain began to subside
Those of us left were in one trench when the sun rose on those that had died.
The choppers came, but too late for over a half of our men were lying dead
Oh, we held the ground and fought the good fight but the earth was blood red.
I suppose no one was at fault or so they said,
But for those that lost their lives they are still just as dead.
The Artillery site didnt even have a name, nothing for us to recall,
The next week I heard they moved the site, the one where so many gave theyre all.
Those of us left simply call it No Name Hill
You wont find a written story about this still As we were left there to defend on our own
But those that died there were some of the bravest men I have ever known.
©David R. Alexander
December 21, 2002
All Rights Reserved
 Christmas 2002
Wrapping paper and silver bells Christmas trees and baking smells Twinkling stars and softly falling snow The store windows lighted and aglow Gazing in them a child I was of wonder Dreaming of coming Christmas plunder Years passing, I have grown wiser now ,and it seems There is no wonder in the store windows gleams Brighter now from afar I watch for His Star I have seen the beauty in the Manger Scene Wiser now ,I do know what Christmas means The warm glow of my families` smiles Knowing I have made beloved friends across the miles ....Wrapping paper and silver bells ....Christmas trees and baking smells and God sending from above ................His greatest gift of love
©Faye Sizemore December2002


Happy Birthday Jesus
Walking along the path
A stone walk flanked by a concrete birdbath
To a garden of flowers and streams
It suddenly came to me that God is what it means.
Hearing about many exploits and deeds of valor and lore
Many in their graves to breath no more.
Those still living a life of self-doubt and pity for themselves
Seems like the hero is as elusive as an elf.
But there is one that gave his all and all he could be
He gave his life on this earth just for you and me.
Hero or savior all is one in the same for him
Giving his life was planned and not on a whim.
Jesus came to earth as a man
Not to judge mankind but to give a saving hand.
So when searching for a hero ore the earthen sod
Look up to heaven and give your thanks to God.
Christmas is Jesus birthday as I have been told
Now he is with our heavenly Father sitting on a throne of gold.
More than a hero, more than a saint, much more by a lot.
Happy Birthday Jesus from one man for a hero I am not.
© David Alexander
December 21, 2002
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Spirit
The spirit of all veterans Is not measured by something seen.
But the spirit of veterans
Is something that has lingered as memories become pristine.
An old soldier may become stiff and sore
But the spirit of a veteran never wanes
As age may make him unable to fight anymore
But the wiliness and know how still runs through his veins.
While watching a parade and the flag comes slowly by
He will be the first and sometimes the only one to stand and salute
His spirit will assure us all that the flay will always fly.
A veteran may become too old to fight but never too old to shoot.
When the country faces an enemy here or on a distant land
Never have a doubt that the veterans spirit will never let you down.
His spirit will be with each soldier in the jungle, or in the foreign sand.
I wager each of you know one, at least one from your hometown.
The spirit of an ole soldier now known as a civic pride
Will always be present and support his country at every turn.
He will be there for you and never will you see him run and hide.
So young soldiers listen well to his stories and well you may learn.
Because the spirit of all soldiers young and old is what keeps us free
It is better to stand tall and fight when you must than hide your pride
Then you become no better than a coward and for your own life plea
Listen to those with this spirit because many of their brothers, for you and me have died.
© David Alexander
December 23, 2002
All Rights Reserved
When there were no silent nights,
there were no holy nights....at all!
...but that was so very damn long ago.
Why? ........do I remember them now, as I grow so very old,
and tired of all the war things deep within, lingering from another time.
War, and memory, remaining like an old dog sleeping by my side.
I see them in the nightfire..., as embers, ...........glowing by my side.
Embers of a war that cannot go away.
A war, burning within the moments of today.
War!
....burning.
© LJKlaiberDecember242002
Many Trees Talking
By the river when it is cold and the Sun dances upon the water so brightly sparkling into my eyes.....,
.....nothing is warmer than late into the night when the bright Moon walks the river of wintertime, alone, .....when memory sits beside me like a shadow, and many trees are talking, ...as the horned owl calls ...the names.
Our youth was in a hurry then. So brave! ..so damn, laughing, brave.
I build a fire to warm my hands, my heart, my old cold feet.
I am never alone anymore. Voices whisper in the glow of embers, as the fire fades to silence, and the Moon remains a lantern within the tall trees talking as I walk toward home.
The Owl remains, so softly calling, ...the names from long ago.
©LJKlaiber 12 27 02
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