The American Soldier, Retold by an Old Warrior Who Passed Away in 2005

February 6, 1918 - December 15, 2005
WWII, Korean War, Vietnam Era Veteran
Combat Infantry
Under the Southern Cross:
The Americal Division (America/New Caledonia)
I belong to the sacred, hallowed ground known as the battlefied. Dotting the landscape...blackened, desolate trees, lifeless tortured limbs, drooping, decimated branches, now stand as silent sentinels to the hundreds of thousands of valiant men who soaked the ground with their blood. I long for the battlefield, as morbid as that may sound. What is this...? I am somehow looking down upon my torn body lying on the ground, my helmet is somewhere nearby, having been violently flung off by an enemy battery, or a mortar round. I am bloodied, shaken, shattered and twisted, entangled in confusion as I lay among the wounded and those who have recently fallen and now, slowly turning cold. I cast my eyes toward a body whose own eyes stare vacantly back at me. My fingers, groping along, barely able to move, are now gently, tenderly reaching up toward his face, closing his eyelids. The lump in my throat is growing. The torrent of tears begins and will not stop. There is an emptiness that no word can define, a deepness, a sadness, a loss I feel, as I survey the ragtag bunch of human debris lying all around. I started out the war as a young man full of vitality and vigor. I was in the cavalry. I know, for all you young guys that are doing duty in Iraq, Afghanistan, that's a helluva long time ago. Of Scottish descent, my thick black wavy hair was a standout along with my great sense of humour. We were all "buddies" then, this group of young men. We could be found teasing one another, sitting around campfires, cleaning our weapons, cigarette smoke filling the air, while our horses were tethered nearby. Every so often we would hear them impatiently pawing the ground or a soft whinny. A cavalryman's horse was as important as his rifle. Sometimes we could be found doing the rotten and dirty work of sentry duty in the trenches. We became very close. Yet, somehow now, after my reddened eyes survey this vast expanse of desolation, I feel so very very old, so very very tired. Like the last bit of energy in my body has been spent. I just want this all to end. I have been fighting this war for such a long time. There have been so many battles, and I've endured the horror of watching so many of my buddies being injured or worse. Just yesterday, as we marched through the jungle, ahead of me there was an explosion. Everyone hit the ground. As it turned out, our Platoon Sgt. had just stepped on a land mine. Suddenly, everyone's world was turned upside down. It was like watching a picture in slow motion. I knew what had happened but my mind could not grasp it. Pieces of him were everywhere, even in my hair. Oh, what the hell. Another casualty - another casualty of war. All around me slow-motion running, confusion and screaming. What was real was now unreal. What was unreal was now real. Such is war. I'm wondering, "how many back home know what I'm going through right now?" "How many of them, snug and safe in their beds, know the hell that is war, the mental anguish"? Yet the young, so full of spirit, so full of life, know no bounds. Nothing can stop them. Their vigor, their vitality, their zest for life...an undying determination and love for country, freedom and liberty. Their patriotism, their sacrifices, have kept this country free and enabled her to become the greatest nation on earth. Comaraderie is one of the big things that gets a soldier through a war. And, of course letters from home. But a grateful nation means very much to those who put their lives on the line. How many people today really understand the liberties that were hard won for them and/or really appreciate them? There is a saying, "once something is lost, it is lost forever". A soldier comes up against circumstances that try his very soul, sorely test his personal character, his resolve and mettle. Sometimes, he finds himself wanting but he just keeps going anyway, in order to get the job done. So it was with us and our Revolutionary War soldiers. The inexperienced farmers, shopkeepers, bakers and candlestick makers. And many more who joined them from all walks of life. Make no mistake, The Yoke of Bondage and Tyrants are ever lurking in the shadows. And if a people are not instructed in the ways of liberty and metamorphis into ignorance and carelessness then they will have opened the door and invited Mr. Tyranny into their homes. To All My Fellow Soldiers, I proudly salute you this Memorial Day. You are truly My Brethren. The American soldier, even with his human frailities, but with devout allegiance to something greater than himself, has made this nation the greatest nation on earth. For on the battlefield is the true test of courage, a coming together of the body's two halves...one spiritual, one physical. They both meet on the Field of Honor and dare face the challenge of coming face-to-face with who they really are. To all you politicians who "think" you are running this country, think again. It is not you, the elite, the privileged, the arrogant, the cowards, who despise what sacrifices were and are still being made on your behalf, but it is to those brave men and women who have given their all. God Bless America. May Her Flag Continue to Wave, representing freedom and liberty for all mankind. And May we all remember the real reason why we celebrate this Memorial Day, May 30, 2010.
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From your daughters, Thank You for your service to the country, Dad...