This past week we celebrated Memorial Day. So yes, this is a little late. However, my reasons for the tardiness is two fold. First and foremost I partied fairly hard like everyone else. I raised my glass to those who came before and then attempted to ensure that their share did not go to waste. Needless to say I have to give my liver a high five for not throwing in the towel at some point over the weekend. Secondly, and in my opinion, the most important reason is this. I have a deep and personal belief that we should not limit our thanks and gratitude to our fallen heroes to one fucking day. They deserve more than that. It's just like I think Veteran's Day should be a constant thing. Furthermore, even though I applaud all of you who thank current vets that we all need to make a concerted effort to thank all the vets who came before. ESPECIALLY our Vietnam Vets. Our Country essentially abandoned them when they returned and turned the other way in their time of need. So yeah. Let's not leave them out in the rain anymore. I want all of you to consider one little thing. Our Armed Services today are all volunteers. Everyone of them raised their right hand voluntarily knowing what was going on in the world. During Vietnam, the vast majority of those who fought and died were drafted. They were not given a choice. They were not asked to volunteer. They were told to enlist, to fight, and to die in an unpopular war or face consequences that amounted to basically losing many of their rights as citizens. Never forget that. They still need our help and support.
Now as for what you are about to read. I have had the distinct honor of being born into a family that has a military tradition. One of my grand father's fought as a Marine in the island hoping campaign in World War II against the Japanese. He was a Machine Gunner and was a hard core mother fucker. Hearing his stories sent chills down my spine and up until the day he died you couldn't get within a few feet of him while he was sleeping without him waking up. My other grand father was in the Army in Motor Transport. Although not directly a combat related job he provided direct support to the grunts on the ground and landed in the 4th wave on Normandy. What he spoke of about that landing would make most men turn and run. Yet he and many others pushed through and took that damn beach head. In the mid-90's I lost them both. One to Parkinson's and the other to lung cancer. They were both heroes and I am thankful that I was old enough to listen when they told their stories. The following poem is something I wrote from a combination of both of their stories. I've been hesitant to put any of my writing up here but I also think it would be wrong for me to keep their story to myself. So without further adieu....
"A Warrior's Prayer"
Lord, please hear me pray,
As I tread along these bloody banks.
Save me from this dying day,
Guide us through descending ranks.
Lord, hear these words I say,
As I walk the blood filled shore.
With fellow man I only pray,
Hoping that my soul will soar.
Lord, look down upon my face,
As I wade knee deep in blood.
Pleading for forgiveness my grace,
I stand amidst a raging flood.
Lord, save me from this wretched hell,
As I surge towards eternal sleep.
The horrors I've seen I couldn't tell,
Please halt the time so I may weep.
Lord, pull me from enraging flames,
Allow me to sing where angels fly.
Lord, as I pray, my soul he maims,
Please, my savior, don't let me die...
by Cory Will
Copyright 1995, 1997, 2000
Proudly said and proudly read.
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