Book Review, "Taps on the Walls"

worked for Major General John Borling when he was a Colonel in the basement of the Pentagon. I’ve been in touch with him and received permission to share one of the poems from his book.

In addition to the poems being well developed and written, what is unique is the fact that originally they were NOT written. That’s right. All of these poems were developed in his and his fellow POW’s minds over several years while sitting in small solitary cells in the Hanoi Hilton. John was there almost 7 years. The poems were memorized and communicated between each other using the secret Tap Code. Thus the title “Taps on the Walls.” He and others brought them back in their minds.

For many years he was too busy with his military and civilian career to pursue the project but finally after much encouragement from many including the leadership of the Pritzker Military Museum and Library in Chicago the book was published earlier this year. The poems tell of the pain, despair, humor, encouragement and hope but especially the strength of the American fighting man’s spirit. You will see why fly-leaf encouragement from folks like Gary Sinise testify to John’s remarkable stories of endurance, life lessons, and means to achieving personal triumph. I strongly recommend this book as a gift to anyone interested in military aviation or those who recognize the sacrifice of our Nation’s heroes. I am not going to share his many military and civilian accomplishments beyond the fact that John is also the founder and director of Service Over Self (SOS) which is an advocacy group for universal military service for America’s youth.

Mommy, Where Is My Daddy?

I hear you walking in the night;
You think I’m fast asleep.
I know your sounds of loneliness;
I hear you pray and weep

You think that I’m too young to know
The agony and pain
Of missing the man gone away
In search of war and fame.

He didn’t come home with all the rest;
It’s been four years and more.
His squadron mates don’t know his fate,
O cruel, unending war.

I try to fill the gap he’s left
For emptiness adjust.
I love him though he’s just a dream,
And picture that we dust.

Oh Mommy, where is my daddy?
Won’t he ever be coming home?
You say he loves us so very much,
But he’s left us o long alone.

****

Lauren, my precious daughter,
This tale you must be told.
Your daddy wore the silver wings
Of Air Force pilots bold.

He loved the world of speed and sound;
He flew the Phantom Two.
And life was love and freedom’s fight;
What happiness we knew.

He told me before we married,
About his other life,
And how he wanted me to be
A loyal Air Force wife.

At times I hated those four words,
But did the best I could.
I know he loved all the more,
Because I understood.

You’d have to see the look he wore
When coming in at night.
A hug, a kiss and then his words:
“Gee, I had a great flight.”

He’d tell us of the wondrous things
He’d seen and done that day.
Aloft in his great chariot,
Holding the world at bay.

He’s play with you and fool with me,
Out on the front-room floor.
The talk about a pot of gold
And rainbow he did score.

But now he’s gone, listed missing,
Ten thousand miles away.
And nothing left for us to do.
Just sit and wait and pray.

He will be coming home one day,
Believe with all your heart.
He’ll laugh and hold us in his arms,
And time again will start.

****

Myrna and Lauren, my darlings,
The hurt I’ve caused to you.
It pains me more than my sad fate,
For nothing I can do.

The endless days have turned to years;
Impossible, it seems.
And all our plans and all our hopes
Are now just shattered dreams.

Honey, they’ve just about killed it,
The drive and the desire
To make my mark and get ahead.
Just embers now, no fire.

I know that I must fly again,
Be free and know the joy,
As boundless skies and purest air
Help memories destroy.

I know that I must love again,
My child and faithful wife.
The dim-bright figures of my past,
The touchstones of my life.

I seek elusive happiness,
That most men never know.
To be in love with home and work,
And help my country grow.

And God must play a vital part;
To him all thanks belong.
For he is here when I am weak,
And helps me get along.

Still, I run an uncertain race.
Ahead another bend.
My breath comes short and I’m so worn,
Not sure if there’s an end.

I think of small things like front doors,
Rooms with familiar chairs,
Recollections, I long to see,
And you upon the stairs.

But now I’m gone, listed missing,
Ten thousand miles away.
And nothing left for me to do,
Just sit and wait and pray.

I will be coming home one day;
Believe with all your heart.
I’ll hold you in my arms and…try to laugh,
And time again will start.

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