We wandered . . .
into a world
unknown
on farms
in small towns
or big cities
at once safe
then what . . .
It was us
that went in
but it wasn't us
coming out
oh it was
the same body
but it wasn't
the same person
not ever again
after we wandered
into this world
called war
by some
called hell
by those
who entered
in over
the bridges of safety
build upon
the bodies
of those
who went
before . . ."

"Why was it . . .
always us
who were lucky
not to be found
in the first
or even
the fifth landing
when the next beachhead
was being made
being consummated?
Why was it us
who had to remember
to never forget
to hear the screams
the shattered dreams
of those
we tried not to know
to have to remember
who went first
or even fifth
across the fields of fire
called the next beachhead
on this shore unknown
and now but history . . .?"

"We needed . . .
many to achieve
a victory,
never a few
too dangerous
too awful
to use the weapons,
that would have
allowed some
if not all
to miss this event
called war in papers
called atrocities
by others
called wasted
called scattered,
of mass destruction
to end this misery
of the weeping widows
of the cries of parents
of the loss of innocents
so it took many
to achieve
this shame
called war . . . "

"At first . . .
we fought
alongside
the trained
the disciplined
only to be beaten
again and again
in woods
and forests
we knew
and the enemy
knew even better
but we were
no better
than trash
to these professionals
and to this day
it is argued
of who won
and who lost
who was trash
and who was trained
who had more
and who had less
and who could wait
for another day
for another day . . ."

"They called us . . .
late to the battle
already commenced
with our clean weapons
with our hands
not yet bloodied
we were the "Yanks"
mostly unwanted
but needed
to endure the gas
to endure the horror
of this party
to which we'd arrived
with time to fight
from trench to trench
to change the face
of war forever
with our clean weapons
which bloodied
the field of fire
as never before
so we could
or we thought
we could
go home
with war forever
was never dreamt . . ."

"It wasn't the . . .
ambushes which
killed and maimed
we'd been
trained for them
no it was something
far worse
for it was the children
who walked among us
who took our food
our candy
our clothing
and our lives
with booby traps
and innocence
known only
to a child
who with nothing
yet the terror of war
who killed,
this was the worse . . ."

"Enough for now . . .
my mind is weeping
at remembering
how foolish
is this thing
called war
or better
this waster of youth
if not for greed
or power
or the arrogance
of politics
would we have
to remember
this day or any day
that hate consumes
not the hater
but the youth
but the youth
of one generation
to another . . ."