Posted on 10/05/2001 1:17:44 PM PDT by Luis Gonzalez
I heard it in the horizon,
just below the line of sight.
I heard it in the stilled darkness,
of a moonlit autumn night.
It called an old, rugged warrior,
called him to his last post.
Defending the gates of Heaven,
commanded by the Holy Ghost.
He’s our friend, and he stands ready,
today, still, as he has every single time.
Anytime his country needed him,
needed him to hold the line.
So tell me, did you hear the bugler’s call?
Did you hear it call our friend?
Don’t be sad, and always remember him,
A Marine, an American, and a Patriot to the end.
Hermano, that poem was beautiful. You are truly gifted, friend.
May our dear departed friend, CHIEF negotiator, RIP.
He will never be forgotten.
CHIEF: SALUTE. You're missed terribly.
"CHIEF negotiator's funeral arrangements, time/place"
Your humility is misplaced, my FRiend...great job. And please continue to include us whenever the Muse compels you to create poetry...as well as, of course, yer prose.
FReegards...MUD
Edd
May you rest in peace, CHIEF!
Semper Fidelis,
Norb
Semper Fi.
L
The Warriors' path ran through that valley
Where the shadows had no end--
Where the password was "My Brother!"--
Where the answer was "My Friend!"
Those who walked that path together,
For all eternity are bound
In a state of trust and friendship
That, nowhere else on earth is found!
For only those who walked there with us
Know the half of what we feel--
Know the ties that run between us,
Stronger than the finest steel!
I recall a savage summer
When young men grew old too fast;
Where every minute seemed eternal,
Where every breath might be our last;
Where they sowed us from the choppers
Like a farmer sowing grain--
(Still, in the hours after midnight,
Demons plant that field again!)
When the Midnight Madness takes us
Back to scenes from long ago,
There's a wide field strewn with bodies--
All with faces that we know!
There--- the mud and smoke and thunder--
--someone crying out in pain!
There-- the blood and sweat and heartache
---and we live it all again!
There-- the mountain and the graveyard--
There-- the paddy with its dikes;
There-- the land mines and the mortars
And the punji traps with spikes-
Where we fought long past exhaustion,
-- young men came and old men went--
Tired and tortured-- touched with madness--
Still we fought where we were sent.
It seems our youth was but a moment
And the years just slid away--
Suddenly we face the twilight,
Warped and wasted-- bent and gray!
Now, some are gathered 'round this bunker
In the shadows of the end,
Where the password is "My Brother!"
Where the answer is "My Friend!"
Where no one of us need ever
Stand another watch alone,
For there's a spirit here that bonds us-
Blood of blood and bone of bone!
Brother {Herb} --- someone tells me
That you've saddled up once more--
That you're walking point again
The way you always did before.
If I could I'd walk it for you--
(So would any man that's here!)
But, our orders were to "Hold Position!"
Though the reason's far from clear!
So, walk on, warrior! Keep a lookout
For long lost Brothers you might find;
Tell them all we'll meet at sunrise--
We're just a click or two behind!
Walk on, Warrior! Let us help you
Saddle up and load your gear--
With you up front as point man
We know there's nothing there to fear.
We must not waste a precious moment
On a tear-soaked, sad, "good-bye"--
Just let me take you by the shoulders--
Toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye--
And, we'll just say "So Long" like Brothers--
Walk on Warrior! (Hand Salute!) Semper Fi!
Copyright Doug Todd, Nov. 1998
Rest in Peace, Brother Herb. Semper Fi!
Neil E. Wright, D108718, RM2, USN (1969-1980)
Toward FREEDOM
Fine job!
Thank you!
I have to go buy more kleenex. Again, thank you.
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