I am a Vet

I am proud

I have felt fear

I have felt anger

I have experienced death

I have felt pain

I have bled

I have sweat

I have felt chills in my soul

My eyes have seen things in the darkness that did not exist

I was old at 21

I was meak

I was mean

I think I have experienced Hell

I did what I was told to do

I obeyed those who should have known

I am proud

I am weak

I still hurt

I am older now

The anger is gone

The pain remains

I have experience beyond my age

Who should I tell

Who will listen

Who will care

I will.

I would do it all again

Not the same

I would listen

I would obey

I would do it my way

Without regret

I am proud

Have you been there

How do you feel

Are you proud

Have you forgiven

I have

If you haven't been there

How do you know

How can you say

Can you be proud

I am older

So who listens

Will anyone

I have a son

He has almost been there

God spared him

I am proud of him

He now listens

He now cares

He is proud
 
 

=========================================
Here is something that was passed on to me around Veterans Day, 1999
I salute the person who wrote it and passed it on and would like to do my part to spread the word.

--------------------

'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 HOME DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBERING THOUGHT
CAME INTO MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I'D FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
THIS I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS."

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.

I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."

This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan. The following
is his request. I think it is reasonable.....PLEASE. Would you do a
kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be
coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S. servicemen and women for our
being able to celebrate these festivities. Let's try in this small way to
pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes,
living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.

Please, do your small part to plant this small seed.
 
 

    Get Up, Sir!
 
 

Up!  Get up, young man, theres nothing wrong with you that I can tell
Youíve no call lying sunken still,
Three days dead in the evening heat and morning dew,
The jungle creeping in on you
To work its green-eyed will.

Him I understand, laying slack against the wall,
No head, no legs, no arms, a bloodless shredded sack.
He grappled  with a satchel charge, thereís nothing else at all.
A tattered scrim of dusky skin informs me he is black.

But you, sir!  Get you up.  Thereís naught in you infirm
Save a certain languid pallor and a dusty dreamy stare
Coupled sorely with a stillness that forebodes the end of term
Of your likely twenty two that should have never ended there.

Rumming through the wreckage, noting curiously each
Reason each dead man is dead, what each dead man can teach
Us the living, us the frightened.  Those of us whoíve yet to die
Garner mute and awful testimony, for we must know why.

Threadbare camouflage and boots, accoutrements in place,
No mark, no bruise, no puncture there to certify your fate,
Lily colored, silken, waxen, beard ungrown upon your face,
Up, sir, up!  You are not broken!  Bid you hearken and you state

Why you lie there veiled in tears, ringed of comrades, welling grief,
Never touching, never touching, but despairing of relief
From the enigmatic answer to the cryptic question, ìWhy,
Why is it that you are chosen, and not him, nor her - nor I.

                    ( from another vet I met on the web)

http://www.cpeq.com/~wall/

http://members.aol.com/veterans/warlib6.htm

http://www.vva.org/

http://badger.state.wi.us/agencies/dva/

http://www.VirtualWall.org ....... The Virtual Wall

http://members.aol.com/veterans/warlib6.htm
 
  
 

On To Thunderbird Ranch

back to the Barndweller Page