A MARINE DIES…
Take a man and put him alone,
put him twelve thousand miles from home.
Empty his heart of all but his blood,
make him live in sweat, in mud.
This is the life I have to live,
this the soul to the Devil I give.
You have your parties and drink your beer,
while young men are dying over here.
Plant your signs on the White House lawn;
“Let’s get out of Vietnam”.
Use your signs and have your fun,
then refuse to use a gun.
There’s nothing else for you to do,
then I’m supposed to die for you.
There is one thing that you don’t know;
and that’s where I think you should go!
I’m already here and it’s too late.
I’ve traded all my love just for hate.
I’ll hate you till the day I die.
You made me hear my buddy cry.
I saw his leg and his blood shed,
then I heard them say “This one’s dead”.
It was a large price for him to pay,
to let you live another day.
He had the guts to fight and die,
to keep the freedom you live by.
By his dying your life he buys,
but who gives a DAMN if a Marine dies!
Webmaster’s Note: A poem purported to have been found in the pocket of a dead Marine: Quang Tri Province, Vietnam, June 7, 1969