Poetry of the Heart

The Vietnam Vet

Long ago it seems
Through the jungle
Through the pain and death of it,
some vets still dream

•••

Though a memory for some
Many did not come
Home to the land of the free
To be here with you and me

•••

Some still remember the hurt
From the effects of Vietnam
And of the blood spilled on its dirt
Where now it's so calm

•••

To hear the protests back here
Was hard to bear
When soldiers in Vietnam were in fear
And the people back home didn't care

•••

So I dedicate this poem
To all Vietnam Vets
Still living and those gone
So Americans let's listen
To those Americans still missing

By Jimmy Benner ( SP/5)
205th Support Helicopters
Phu Loi ( 67-68)
© 1999 - J Benner - All Rights Reserved

"HOPE"

Age 18 and full of dreams and hope,
Sent off into a war that was hard to cope,
Being trained not in sport but that of infantry,
Yes, had to get right with my body and rifle,
For to come along with it was that of survival,
Oh God I said upon getting off the plane,
I fear and smell all too much pain,
Wasn't long on the ground I sent off to a unit,
173rd Airborne C 2/503rd Infantry was it,
Each and every footstep is etched into my mind,
Everyday was same old hump and grind,
Then like out of nowhere comes thunder and shells,
It was then I heard all of the screams and yell's,
As it went on and on my 18 year old mind was spinning,
Then came silence of gunfire then was the beginning,
As I moved to a brother down on the ground,
Something inside me clicked and I choked it all down,
The smell of burnt gun powder and blood,
Made me ask myself if I understood,
No! Never understood and yet today I wonder why,
Why so many had to die and suffer to overcome,
Their wounds both outside and inside and this I cry,
Was years before I could cry, I just wanted to die,
Saw so many die in such an awful place,
And I always blocked out their face,
Wonder when I would be next to face death,
18 and so scared at times it took my breath,
I've since seen the faces and heard it all play back,
And the govenrment and VA don't give a shit and lack,
Lack the responsibility to show us some respect,
Then sit back and wonder why we are so violent,
All the blood that was drained out all the men,

None is on my hands yet today it was over there,
But it was out of care that I gave trying to save them,
Lot's of the rich back here turn the other way,
For they are but the one's that have bloody money,
Fought and did what I was ask to do as did many,
But you would think we would get some dignity,
No! Sad to say we just like in the jungle deep,
Back to back is the way we go holding heads high,
Trying to hold back the tears, and soon give a sigh,
I sit here and times I want to die not cry! But then?
They would surely win wouldn't they? Keeps me alive,
At least for this day it does, who knows what tomorrow
Brings our way? God knows and will adjust accordingly,
Feel that I've been in hell since 18 years old, am, proud of
What I did and would do it all over again but would hold
The politicians responsible! Will close for now just
Blowing out some bitterness to help my headache stop!
But then again who really gives a s... right? HOPE does
She cares and that to me is a start is more than before,
Thanks HOPE and God Bless You in many way's ok?

                                 ©  by Jim Simpson September 10, 1998
                        173RD AIRBORNE 67-68

"DUST OFF"
a poem by Jim Simpson

I can still hear the awful call:
"Dustoff control! Dustoff control! We have a man down!"
As we continue the fight, more begin too fall.....and still the call~
The Dustoff choppers come to answer our calls- they come in at a big risk to get the wounded out.
They were the best - and my heart aches for the risks they took.

I was on one of the Dustoff trips-
and when I came to, three bodies were dead among me on the floor.
A door gunner looked at me and shouted, "It's okay, Bro. You okay and we on the go."
Wasn't long and we touched down at B - Med-
I was there as they removed the dead.
They looked at me and took me inside-
and told me. "We got you another ride."
Found myself on a C-130 - hospital in the air-
headed for the 8th Field Hospital in Nha Thrang.
They took care of my wound's there.
Without Dustoff Control lots of us would be no more.

From C 2/503rd 173rd AIRBORNE BDE.Infantry, thanks to all of you from my heart. For we were just a call on the radio from being apart.
My hat's off too all of you, and as well I salute you.
Be it heard from the "HERD", we appreciate all you did, and will never, ever forget a thankless job as ours, but as brothers, we know what thanks it meant.

God be with us all!
And when we get the final call.....
I feel I will hear Angel's call - for "Dustoff Control!"
Then peace will be mine and can share with my brothers....
One and all, we answered each other's call.
Even answered our Country's call - and now I wait for them too answer our call.
Please help us through this PTSD - and please agree....we were right and never wrong~
just didn't have the support from all of you here at HOME!

Jim Simpson
C 2/503 Infantry 173rd AIRBORNE
© January 13, 1998 - All Rights Reserved

Names in the Sky

I look up at the sky and I see the wall,
The names are the stars on a black-background
and like the wall,
when it rains the stars disappear,
but they always break cover,
like the names on the wall.

© 1997  by Lucien L. Carter
 

DRIVE ON

A Poem/Song by
by Johnny Cash

Well I got a friend named Whiskey Sam,

he was my Boonie Rat buddy for a year in Nam

He said I think my country got a little off track

it took them 25 years to welcome me back

but its better than not coming back at all

•

Many a good man I saw fall, and even now everytime I dream

I hear the men and the monkeys in the jungle scream

Drive on , it don't mean nothing.

My children love me but they don't understand

and I got a woman that knows her man

Drive on, it don't mean nothin, it don't mean nothin, drive on

•

Well I remember one night Tex and me rappeled in on a hot LZ

we had our 16's on rock and roll and with all of that fire I was scared and cold

I was crazy and I was wild and I have seen the tiger smile

I spit in a bamboo vipers face and I'd be dead but by God's Grace

Drive on, it don't mean nothin it don't mean nothin, drive on

•

It was a slow walk in a sad rain and nobody tried to be John Wayne

I came home and Tex did not and I can't talk about the hit he got

well I got a little limp now when I walk and I got a little trem a little when I talk

but my letter read from whiskey, your a walkin, talkin miracle from  Vietnam

Drive on, it don't mean nothin, it don't mean nothin drive on.

•

to my friend Hope for her homepage-
©  by, Ed G
April 67 - April '68

My Shade Tree

I sit under a shade tree,
a mighty shade tree.

I look at it and then realize.
That, in the past
Some one took the time to plant it.

I enjoyed it.

Then I knew what I must do.
Now, I plant shade trees
in everything I do in life.

Want to know how?

Well, when some one
is in need of help
and I am able
I give them a hand
Speak words of encouragement
I cook a meal and I set the table


© Dec., 1998  by Robert Michael Beamer
U.S.N. 1964 -1967,  (Signalman/Seaman - Destroyer

"MEMORIES"

I need... No! I want... someone to listen...hear what I say... For, I am...the other forgotten Vet... There are many more like me, but I can only tell my story...for It's the only one I know...The one I've lived...

Child of the 60's...Class of '65...Three days out of high school... Gonna be like Dad...joined the Navy, got a tatoo...Yeah...just like Dad... Volunteered for Nam...gonna be a hero...Gonna do for my country just like JFK asked...

Arrived there in October '66...spent a year there...a lonely year away from those I loved...A sometimes scarey year...but, by God...it was My duty...I gave it my best...

Came home...felt good for awhile... Hey people!...look at me?...I'm a Viet Nam vet...No one cared...after awhile, I didn't care either...

Ah! But now, America...my country...notices the Viet Nam Vet... He won't go away...He's been shot...been doused with agent orange... Can't hold a job...does drugs...Blames all his problems on a war he couldn't win...

America's sorry...Let's now understand...Let's help him...give him his due...make some moves about him...do a T.V. series...

Why do I begin to feel the guilt?... I wasn't wounded...didn't lose my sight or a leg...no nightmares, no flashbacks... I went on with my life...wonderful wife, two great kids...a house, a dog...a good job... Would a Purple Heart...a Silver Star...or maybe a wheelchair...ease the guilt?... I think not...

Please...somebody...anybody...Just tell me thank you... Let me be as proud now...as I was...that October day... So very long ago...

©  by,Walt Maxam January 1988

"Name Of A Brother"

While walking down a lonely trail,
thinking that Charlie would show
without fail,

I clicked my M-16 on automatic, just as
I rounded a bend, When all of a sudden I heard
that all too familiar clack of
an Ak-47.  Who had my back?

Just as that Charlie got off his first round,
I was hit from behind and knocked to the ground.
As I lay there motionless I realized for certain that I would be dead
if it weren't for another.

And to this day I can't remember his name.

All these years of not knowing has caused me
some shame.

So I come to a wall all filled up with names
For it may be here that appears the name of a
brother who happened one day to save the life
of another

© by FirCAV68@aol.com
Send Email: FirCAV68@aol.com
Come Visit: Name Of A Brother

"HILL 875"

© Nov. 29, 1967

© 1983 James E. Baskin


Dedicated to the men of the 173rd Airborne Brigade (Sep)

James E. Baskin (former Sgt E-5)
"B" Co., 4th Battalion, 503rd Airborne Infantry
1966-1968, 1970

I pledge allegiance to the Flag,
Of the United States of America,
And to the Republic for which it stands,
One Nation, under God, Indivisible,
With Liberty, and Justice for All!

 This Page Established
July 8, 1999