David R. “Poppa” Alexander
I was thinking about a situation,
About an ungrateful nation,
How we send our young men to fight and die,
And mostly never tell them why.
When upon this thought I did ponder,
While in Vietnam alone, despondent:
If tonight I should be the one who died,
Would anyone ever wonder why?
Can a forgotten voice from the distant past,
Make a sad or happy memory last?
Days grow shorter and nights grow colder,
As each second passes, we all grow older.
Should I reveal thoughts that are in my head?
Or should I keep them silent, with the dead?
Should I, an old man, sit and weep
And never complain or even speak?
My father, he was such a man,
Fought in World War II in a foreign land.
Served his country in his youth,
And never spoke about that truth.
Those men, those heroes of the Korean War,
The “Frozen Chosen” and the death they saw.
Their bravery and deeds so soon forgotten,
Treated like they were the misbegotten.
Then the “Ten Year War”; young men gave their all,
Honest, brave, and they too answered the call,
But no parade or thanks did they ever find,
Just an ungrateful nation, sick in heart and mind.
Is it their legacy that we idly watch them die,
Or is it our duty to help them as their time grows nigh?
They honored their country in its hours of need
We must honor our War Veterans, our nation’s seed.
©Copyright July 2002 by David R. Alexander
Author’s Note: With a special thank you to Anthony W. “Tony” Pahl