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Bulletins

A collection of prose and poetry reflecting on the experience and sacrifice of veterans.

Just a Simple Soldier

He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion, telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done.
In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, everyone.

And 'tho sometimes, to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
all his buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no longer, for ol' Bob has passed away,
and the world's a little poorer, for a Soldier died today.

No, he won't be mourned by many, just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary, very quiet sort of life.
He held a job and raised a family, quietly going on his way;
and the world won't note his passing; 'tho a Soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state,
while thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories, from the time that they were young,
but the passing of a soldier, goes unnoticed, and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution, to the welfare of our land,
some jerk who breaks his promise and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow, who in times of war and strife,
goes off to serve his Country and offers up his life?

The politician's stipend and the style in which he lives,
are sometimes disproportionate, to the service he gives.
While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,
is paid off with a medal and perhaps a pension, small.

It's so easy to forget them, for it is so long ago,
that our Bob's and Jim's and Johnny's, went to battle, but we know.
It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys,
who won for us the freedom, that our Country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger, with your enemies at hand,
would you really want some cop-out, with his ever waffling stand?
Or would you want a Soldier, who has sworn to defend,
his home,his kin, and Country, and would fight until the end?

He was just a common Soldier and his ranks are growing thin,
but his presence should remind us, we may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict, then we find the Soldier's part,
Is to clean up all the toubles, that the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor, while he's here to hear the praise,
then at least let's give him homage, at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline, in the paper that might say:

OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING,
FOR A SOLDIER DIED TODAY.

— Author Unknown

Salute To Vietnam Veterans by Suzanne Dumas

It is only in recent years that I ready became aware of the plight of the Vietnam Veteran. Perhaps I, along with the thousands of Americans, were ignorant; our ignorance was not bliss. I saw a movie called " Born on the Fourth of July" and I realized that this powerful movie about the aftermath of this war was only one story. In my mind, I acknowledged the fact that there were probably thousands of other stories just like this. The feelings I got from that movie, coupled with the hard fact, that there were more veterans who took their own life than the number of names on the Vietnam Memorial, the number of people who actually died in combat.

That is a horrible, painful thought.

We should have let your valor shine as brightly as the stars in heavens; instead we ignored you and shut you out, how could we have been so cruel? You obviously loved our country and all those who live here or you would not have allowed yourself to take part in the battle. You did not know the irony or pain this war would bring. You were just acting out your role as a brave American. You were never thanked or saluted or welcomed home.

This conflict of Vietnam started during the sixty's when we were supposed to be "Flower Children"', "The Love generation "... Were we so involved with "Make Love, not War" that we forgot what love meant? Couldn't we see beyond our own selfish comfortable little world?

I have been snapped into reality and I'd like to shake every American 'til he could feel the pain that burns in the souls of Vietnam Veterans. There is no medal or magic that reward you or erase the pain we have infilicted on you. We can never go back and make it right, that moment is lost forever.

I, for one, am very sorry, I was not there to welcome any of you home. We, as Americans made a terrible, painful mistake. I don't know where I was when you came home, I don't know where the rest of America was. Perhaps, no one let us know you were coming home; perhaps we didn't know of the hell you had seen or the pain you endured. As a Adult of the 90's, I don't understand how this could have happened. We loved all of you, we prayed for you , we wrote to you. But, where were we with our flags and our hero's welcome when you returned with the pain and horror of war in your heart? Where were we when you returned with memories from hell embedded in your brain for eternity. Where were we when you returned without an arm or leg? And where were we when the hope and optimism you left with came back as despair and endless depression? I don't have the answers, I wish I did.

I know for many of the Veterans, all the yellow ribbons after the Gulf War were a painful reminder of how they were forgotten. I am going to do something very trivial; I am going to display a purple ribbon... that is the color of the "Purple Heart" medal awarded to our wounded military. Displaying a ribbon of this color represents our apology for the wound we inflicted by not being there.

Dear Veterans, forgotten Americans, it has been far too long, but I salute you, I am sorry I was not there for you. I'm sorry the rest of America was not there for you, God Bless You, for the personal hell you have endured. All we have left to give you now is two little words...

Thank You!

— Written by Suzanne Dumas
Copyright © 1991

From the other side

At first there was no place for us to go until someone put up that Black Granite Wall. Now, everyday and night, my Brothers and my Sisters wait to see the many people from places afar file in front of this Wall, many stopping briefly and many for hours and some that come on a regular basis. It was hard at first, not that it's gotten any easier, but it seems that many of the attitudes towards that war that we were involved in have changed. I can only pray that the ones on the other side have learned something and that more Walls as this one needn't be built.

Several members of my unit and many that I did not recognize have called me to the Wall by touching my name that is engraved upon it. The tears aren't necessary but are hard even for me to hold back. Don't feel guilty for not being with me, my Brothers. This was my destiny as it is yours, to be on that side of the Wall. Touch the Wall, my Brothers, so that we can share in the memories that we had. I have learned to put the bad memories aside and remember only the pleasant times that we had together. Tell our other Brothers out there to come and visit me, not to say Goodbye but to say Hello and to be together again, even for a short time and to ease that pain of loss that we all share.

Today, an irresistible and loving call comes from the Wall. As I approach I can see an elderly lady and as I get closer I recognize her... It's Momma! As much as I have looked forward to this day, I have also regretted it because I didn't know what reaction I would have.

Next to her, I suddenly see my wife and immediately think how hard it must have been for her to come to this place and my mind floods with the pleasant memories of 30 years past. There's a young man in a military uniform standing with his arm around her... My God!... It has to be my son.

Look at him trying to be the man without a tear in his eye. I yearn to tell him how proud I am, seeing him standing tall, straight and proud in his uniform.

Momma comes closer and touches the Wall and I feel the soft and gentle touch I had not felt in so many years. Dad has crossed to this side of the Wall and through our touch, I try to convey to her that Dad is doing fine and is no longer suffering or feeling pain. I see my wife's courage building as she sees Momma touch the Wall and she approaches and lays her hand on my waiting hand. All the emotions, feelings and memories of three decades past flash between our touch and I tell her that it's all right. Carry on with your life and don't worry about me...I can see as I look into her eyes that she hears and understands me and a big burden has been lifted from her.

I watch as they lay flowers and other memories of my past. My lucky charm that was taken from me and sent to her by my CO, a tattered and worn teddy bear that I can barely remember having as I grew up as a child and several medals that I had earned and were presented to my wife. One of them is the Combat Infantry Badge that I am very proud of and I notice that my son is also wearing this medal. I had earned mine in the jungles of Vietnam and he had probably earned his in the deserts of Iraq.

I can tell that they are preparing to leave and I try to take a mental picture of them together, because I don't know when I will see them again. I wouldn't blame them if they were not to return and can only thank them that I was not forgotten. My wife and Momma near the Wall for one final touch and so many years of indecision, fear and sorrow are let go. As they turn to leave I feel my tears that had not flowed for so many years, form as if dew drops on the other side of the Wall.

They slowly move away with only a glance over their shoulder. My son suddenly stops and slowly returns. He stand straight and proud in front of me and snaps a salute. Something makes him move to the Wall and he puts his hand upon the Wall and touches my tears that had formed on the face of the Wall and I can tell that he senses my presence there and the pride and the love that I have for him. He falls to his knees and the tears flow from his eyes and I try my best to reassure him that it's alright and the tears do not make him any less of a man. As he moves back wiping the tears from his yes, he silently mouths, God Bless you, Dad... God Bless, YOU, Son...We WILL meet someday but in the meanwhile, go on your way... There is no hurry... There is no hurry at all.

As I see them walk off in the distance, I yell out to THEM and EVERYONE there today, as loud as I can... THANKS FOR REMEMBERING and as others on this side of the Wall join in, I notice that the US Flag that so proudly flies in front of us every day, is flapping and standing proudly straight out in the wind today... THANK YOU ALL FOR REMEMBERING...

Duke Frey submits "From the Other Side". He writes, "An old friend and a next door neighbor from a tour in San Diego — sent me this."

Garry Owen • Duke Frey

That Ragged Old Flag

I walked through a county courthouse square. On a park bench an old man was sitting there.

I said, "Your county court house is kinda run down."

He said, "No, it will do for our little town."

I said, "Your old flag pole kinda leans a little bit, and that's a ragged ol' flag you have hanging on it."

He said, "Have a seat", so I sat down.

"Is this your first visit to our little town?"

I said, "I think it is."

He said, "I don't like to brag, but we're kinda proud of that 'ragged old flag'."

You see, we got a little hole in that flag there, when Washington took it across the the Delaware. It got powder-burned the night Francis Scott Key sat watching it, writing, 'Oh Say Can You See'. It got a rip in New Orleans, with Packingham; Jackson tugging at its seams. It almost fell at the Alamo beside the Texas flag, but she wave on tho. It got cut with a sword in Chancellorsville, got cut again at Shiloh Hill. There was Robert E. Lee, Beauregard and Bragg, and the south wind blew hard on 'That ragged old flag'. On Flanders Field in World War I, she had a bad hit from a Bertha gun. She turned blood red in World War II, she hung limp and low by the time that one was through. She was in Korea and Vietnam, She went where she was sent by her Uncle Sam. The Native Americans, the Black, Yellow and White all shed red blood for the Stars and Stripes. And here in her own good land, she's been abused, burned, dishonored, denied and refused, and the very government for which she stands has been scandalized throughout the land. And she's getting thread-bare, and she's wearing kinda thin, but she's in pretty good shape, for the shape she's in, 'cause she's been through the fire before, she can take a whole lot more. So we raise her up every morning and we bring her down slow every night, We don't let her touch the ground, and we fold her up right. On second thought, I do like to brag 'cause I'm mighty proud of 'That ragged old flag'."

Author Unknown

In Your Honor

Unselfishly, you left you fathers and your mothers,
You left behind your sisters and your brothers.
Leaving your beloved children and wives,
You put on hold, your dreams-your lives.
On foreign soil, you found yourself planted
To fight for those whose freedom you granted.
Without your sacrifice, their cause would be lost
But you carried onward, no matter the cost.

Many horrors you had endured and seen.
Many faces had haunted your dreams.
You cheered as your enemies littered the ground;
You cried as your brothers fell all around.

When it was over, you all came back home,
Some were left with memories to face all alone;
Some found themselves in the company of friends
As their crosses cast shadows across the land.

Those who survived were forever scarred
Emotionally, physically, peranently marred.
Those who did not now sleep eternally
‘Neath the ground they had given their lives to keep free.

With a hand upon my heart, I feel
The pride and respect; my reverence is revealed
In the tears that now stream down my upturned face
As our flag waves above you, in her glory and grace.
Freedom was the gift that you unselfishly gave
Pain and death was the price that you ultimately paid.
Every day, I give my utmost admiration
To those who had fought to defend our nation.

Please remember those who didn't run and fought for our country, proudly so that you and I can enjoy the freedom we have today.