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Good afternoon ladies. Flag-o-gram.

The Chaplain wears no helmet,
His head is bowed in prayer.
His face is seamed with sorrow,
But a trace of hope is there.

Our ranks are hushed and silent,
And diminished by our loss.
At our feet, the rows of crosses
Tell how much a battle costs.

Rows of neat, white wooden crosses
And Stars of David, too,
Mark the gravesites of our brothers
Whose fighting days are through.

Friends of mine are lying there;
Ski and Ace and Slim;
Bo and Jack, Bill and Joe,
Dusty, Tex and Jim.

Each has his simple marker,
But the closest one to me
Is a plain white wooden headboard
Marked "Unknown, USMC."

In this final camp of comrades,
It is somehow strange and odd
That a man should lie among them
Known to none except his God.

Who can he be, I wonder
Was he white or black or red,
This man who shares a resting place
With our loved and honored dead?

He cannot be a stranger,
But a friend whose lonely track
Has brought him here among us,
I think I'll call him "Mac."

So many times I've heard it
In the blackness of the night,
Through the swirling mists of combat
With a battle at its height.

"Hey, Mac," a voice would call,
"We can use some help out here,
I've got a man who's wounded.
Can you help him to the rear?"

"Hey, Mac, I'm really burning up.
The sun's so blazin' hot -
Could you spare a drop of water?
Gee, thanks, Mac, Thanks a lot!"

The day when I was wounded,
Hurt and lying in the snow,
A cigarette offered to me
By a man I didn't know.

He quickly stopped the bleeding
And rolled me on my back.
Grinned and gripped his rifle,
And said, "Take it easy, Mac"

A simple word. A simple name.
But still it proves to me
That no man ever really is
"Unknown, USMC."

The Chaplain's prayer is finished.
Our Colors gently dip.
The rifle squad is ready;
The bugler wets his lips.

With blurry eyes and saddened heart
I hear the rifles crack.
Taps float softly on the air -
I say goodbye to "Mac."

(hand salute)

Semper Fi!

Nothing is sadder than Taps, and nothing jolts you quite like the gun salute--even when you know they are coming.

Beautiful, but sad, poem.

Oh my, Thank You, PE.

Tears.

Afternoon PE.

Nice graphic today and a great poem to go with it.

I think I'll call him "Mac."

Great poem and pic for our flag-o-gram today. Thanks PE.