Millions of people went off to war,
with politicians keeping a perfect score.
We fought with dignity and pride,
more than fifty thousand soldiers died.
We sat in bunkers and out in the bush,
cruised down the rivers, whatever it took.
We were too young for what we had seen,
all the slaughter and blood at only nineteen.
Loved ones had no idea by what they could tell,
the things we saw in that living hell.
If we were lucky, along came the night,
when we got our orders to catch one more flight.
We landed back on American land,
just to be cursed and slapped on the hand.
So now we go back to thirty years ago,
through tears, alcohol and sniffing pure snow.
Working on emotions, dreams, and fears,
we find we can love ourselves after all these years.
Check out: I have written a screenplay of my tour in Vietnam, called NAM (Boo-Coo Dinky-Dow) on my Port. page. Please check it out sometime.
© Copyright 2004 MadManMike (taking sabbatical) (UN: madmanmike at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
MadManMike (taking sabbatical) has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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