LIKE HOLDING HIM AGAIN
(A tribute to all the brave men who ever wore a set of "dog tags")

It was bent and rusty and smeared with red
Lying lost in the dirt for so many years,
It spoke of a history of pain and bloodshed
Dying men on the ground with little time for tears.

I picked it up and read the name
The rank and serial number were barely clear,
Some young life no one could claim
Did anyone even remember that he had been there?

To most, it was only a trinket without any worth
Especially in the jungles of Vietnam,
But of all the battles fought on earth
No other left such stain on the face of Uncle Sam.

Thousands of heroes got a really raw deal
While the ashes of draft cards were blowing in the wind,
America's disease would take years to heal
Political divisions would be hard to mend.

I knew it was given as the military I. D.
But the GI saw it as simply his own "dog tag,"
I thought of the boys on the land and the sea
Who had worn it proudly in allegiance to our Flag.

Somewhere there was a mother or a heart-broken wife
Whose loved one's remains lay in an unmarked grave,
Someone who had lost the love of her life
A heart full of memories was all she could save.

I took the tag to a local VA center
And learned that its owner had left a brother,
With all the data we could find to enter
His name and address we were able to discover.

He was so impressed to receive my call
To know that his brother was not among the forgotten men,
Although his name was etched on the Vietnam wall
To hold his "tag" was like holding him again.

The words I heard that thrilled me so much
From the hearts of those who for years had grieved,
More than the "dog tag" I am able to touch
It's like the Homecoming that he never received.

Only God knows of the bodies that were never found
The lives that were taken by bomb or by shell,
Only by His grace can the forces of evil be bound
Without God's love, war is seen to be like Hell!

©Copyright May 24, 2004 by Jack D. Harris

Author’s Note: During the Vietnam War, I was serving as a Minister of the Gospel. I wrote the above poem in honor of my brother, Ernest Mitchell Harris and my brother-in-law, Keith Crackel, both of whom served faithfully in Vietnam.