What a powerful statement my friend. The darker side of conflict that many never see.....the true hell of mans aggression. I hope this note finds you smiling and filled with peace Gene.

Bill :-)

Tight, gaunt writing, Gene with vivid point and energy.

kind of sad Gene, war is hell, so is life sometimes, sooner or later old age beats our azz and we experience the same results, back some years ago in doing my job to help protect a thankless society, I almost got my brains shot out up real close, so I have mental scars and nightmares, I was spared the physical scars of losing my eyesight like one officer did, he lived to be blind after getting shot in the head. I'd rather have been dead than to live without my eyes, gee man it's a nightmare even thinking about it and it was that close, netherless I've survived to let old age rip me apart, which is the best way to go out, through age and time, I guess

And the day the music died. A song by McClean? Not having experienced the horrific scene of war, I don't feel qualified to review your powerful poem, Gene. But it sure got to me strongly. Excellent writing, as usual, but soooo sad.
--Kathy

Your words are very touching Gene as you fill my eye with tears, some young ones don't know how lucky they have it.

Newfie hugs, Rose

"Where have all the young men gone, long time passing...? " Heartbreaking, this chest-thumping of nations, terrible when there is a reason, even more terrible when there is no reason.

This hits hard and hits deep... Thank you!

Myrna

I hardly know what to say Gene, your poem has touched me so deeply.

Oh my,so very touching sweet Gene..so sad...please have a wonderful and safe day OK...HUgss,much love too you

WONDERFUL!!!!!!!!! VERY TALENTED!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

A moving poem you have written.

Edwin

So deeply moving, Gene...you have touched my heart and brought me to tears.

Gene,
There is so much here, so much that is worthwhile in telling, detail, vocabulary and phrasing as well as theme and point of view and such a fine work deserves the lengthy responses it has already garnered. The William Sherman quote as introduction is particularly apt and questions both the wisdom and folly of such endeavours and reminds me of the last four lines of Wilfred Owen's Dulce et Decorum Est:
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
John

Gene, this is so brutally real. I feel sad for the soldier in this story. It isn't just that he lost his leg and his youth, but that he lost his soul and no one cared enough to help him rebuild it. You don't need a leg to have a soul. But without a soul, what good are legs? ~ Sara

The first night I was in Vietnam, one of the wiremen in my platoon had a grenade land at his feet. He threw his hands up and covered his face right before the explosion. He should have jumped for cover like ther est of us. But, other than covering his face with his hands, he froze.

He spent the next six months on a hospital ship. Several surgeries later, he was sent back to finish his tour. By the time he returned, we had an underground bunker for our radios and the switchboard that was connected by wire to all of our gun companies (I was a field radio operator in a tank battalion). The wounded wireman had several weeks before his tour ended. We didn't let him leave the bunker. We even brought his chow to him so he wouldn't expose himself. When he received his papers to return to America, he was escorted to the airstrip under heavy guard. We'd lost one of our Marines from a different platoon to a land mine two weeks before he was to return home. All we found of him was a foot still in the boot. We didn't want that to happen to this guy.

For the rest of his life, he would have to report to the VA for a blood test every six months because of the amount of shrapnel left in his body. Due to his hands covering his face, there were no visible scars, but I'm sure his mind was wounded. I read recently that at least 300,000 still serving in America's military that went to Iraq or Afghanistan suffer from PTSD. No matter to America's leaders, both elected or military. Many of those that suffer from PTSD have been sent back to serve another tour or even more. It brings to mind a scene in Patton where the four star general slaps a solider in the hospital because he cries but isn't physically wounded. Patton was roasted for the press for that. What has happened to America? Is it possible the every day is Halloween but we only celebrate that day once a year and we hand out candy loaded with sugar to a generation raise on sugar--a generation that has seen kids as young as three getting adult set diabetes as they are drinking Coke and Pepsi by the gallon and grew up to hate the taste of water.

The quote from Sherman was right on--a great way to start this reminder... What are we fighting for? Oil -- Need I saw more. AT least in World War II we were fighting the spread of the Japanese and German Empires that were set for world domination.

Heartshattering write, well done, Gene!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :( >tears! <

Too painful to read, too many memories of shattered & missing limbs, the smell of flesh burning, fire fights in dark jungles, screams in English and Vietnamese...when will it end...e

You do harsh reality so well Gene that if it weren't
for your expertise,it would be too horrific to read
Mind boggling to realize your talking of mere boys
in most cases,having to learn in swift doses of wars
abominable ways,not the toy soldier games they played
as children...exceptional writing Gene!

love,
et

You make it seem Gene that we are in the battle along side our soldiers, we see, we hear and we watch. No guns for us so we completely feel their frustrations and pain. You topped yourself Gene, I have no idea where you're going from here. For me, I'm goin to have a good old fashion cry. Love and hugs and please tell me this wasn't written about a real actuality...Bonnie

soldiers are the forgotten excuses to protect our society...Great write Gene you brought the demons home and showed them into the light of our homes...

When I went to the recording studio to record THE BIKER CHRONICLES, this subject came up between me and my sound engineer with one of my selections on THE BIKER CHRONICLES CD THE VISION JAMMER, written about a Viet Nam vet with shrapnel still embedded in his leg in my days when I rode my Harley across the Colorado asphalt and rode with the Sons of Silence, the Outlaws, and the Banditos biker gangs. Those memories were so fond, that I took those stories into the recording studio that I had published in the world's largest selling men's motorcycle magazine. THE BIKER CHRONICLES by Sage Sweetwater can be viewed here.

http://sagesweetwater.tripod.com/

VISION JAMMER is also posted in my den. The Day the Laughing Stopped is a powerful reality, Gene...a cross-over Samhain poem...

Love,
Sage

You take us there on the battlefield and make us feel the wounds long after the war has stopped ... or has it? It lingers, in the missing limb, in phantom pain of memories: your best yet, Gene. Well done.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(

Thank that Veteran for me, give him a (((HUG))) and tell him, "Welcome home." Many others didn't ...

superb imagery...left me wondering if this is the story of someone you know or knew.
Cryssa