"FOREVER 19"

[frisco-kid]

So, how do you do SP/4 Thomas P. Hyde?
Do you mind if I sit here, down by your graveside,
And rest for awhile in the warm May sun?
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.

I see by your gravestone, that you were only 19
When you joined the Dead Heroes, that only God has seen.
I hope you died easy, and I hope you died clean.
Or, SP/4 Hyde, was it slow and obscene?

Did you leave a wife, or a sweetheart behind?
In some faithful heart, is your memory enshrined?
For these many years, you haven't been seen.
But, in that faithful heart, are you forever 19?

Or are you a stranger, without even a name?
Lost in an attic forever, behind a glass frame,
In an old photograph torn, battered, and stained;
All faded to yellow, in an old wooden frame.

The sun, now it shines on this field of graves.
There's a warm May breeze; makes the poppies dance in waves.
And look how the sun shines from under the cloud.
There's no gun fire, barbed wire, or smoke that hangs like a shroud.

But, here in this graveyard that's like a no-man's land,
Your cold, stone cross stands mute in the sand.
A monument to Man's blind indifference to his Fellow Man;
To the best of a generation, who were butchered and Damned.

Now, Tommy Hyde, I can't help but wonder "Why"?
Did those in your ranks know why they were called to die?
And did they believe, when they answered the call,
That The Cause was just, and best for us all?

The sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain,
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain.
For, I'm sure you know, young Thomas P. Hyde,
That we failed to stem The Terrible Red Tide.

So, Rest In Peace in your tomb in the sand.
And may God hold you in the palm of his hand.
I'm glad we met, Tom, on this Memorial Day.
"Welcome Home, Brother, back by The Bay."

"LEST WE FORGET"


P.S. There IS NO SP/4 Thomas P. Hyde. I made him up.

[Arrow]

Beautiful poem my brother. Maybe if we all pledge from this day forward to live to the fullest and best (one day at a time) our own life we will honor all the fallen Tommy's of this country. And never again will they be thought of as dying in vain. For surely we have enjoyed the fruits of freedom in our time as no other people on the face of this earth. Thank you Tommy and all the Tommy's you represent both gone and still with us. There are thousands of us that will quietly remember you....

[phuloi]

I remember being deeply touched by this poem last year at this time and it`s done it again.Do you mind if I send it to a friend? God bless all the SP4 Tommy Hydes and those that love them..

[frisco-kid]

I'm glad you liked the poem. I wrote it last year to share with the group on the old site, and put it up this year to share with, basically, the same bunch. If you liked it enough to share with others, you're welcome to pass it on, Bud.

Best to you and Kati, and tell her how proud of her, and the other girls in her troop, we are for their honoring of our countries fallen vets.

[exlrrp]

Nice Poem, Tom

I'll throw one in, too.


THE BEST OF TIMES, THE WORST OF TIMES
by James Worth

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

It was a time of youth, a time when everybody was under forty and most were under twenty.
It was a time of discovery, a time when young men find themselves, find their balls, a time to find out about life and death
It was a time to ride the tiger, to dance on the edge of a sword..
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

It was a time for high drama and low boredom.
It was a time to make a stand, to tell the world your truth: "They shall not pass!"
It was a time to eat the same twelve canned meals a hundred times in a row, a time to re-read every word on a C-ration can.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

It was a time to meet a Mother Nature with slant eyes and a poisoned dagger, a time of fuck-you lizards and horrendous mosquitoes, a time to pick off leeches and sleep in the pouring rain.
It was a time to lie flat, impossibly flat, with death screaming over you while you gazed at an orchid.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

It was a time of earth tone colors-- brown M-1's and black M16's, green sandbags and khaki NVA, an olive drab world except for the blood and the beer cans.
It was a time when white and black and brown ran together on the pallette, a time to put aside old quarrels untill a better time.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

It was a time that pushed endurance beyond the limit.
It was a time to hump all day with an eighty pound pack,stand guard half the night sitting on a sharp rock to stay awake, shake the fuzz out of your mind and do it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.
It was a time to be so grateful for a helicopter ride
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

It was a time of a growing dismay that the people you came to save and help looked at you like sudden death.
It was a time for surly peasants staring at you hatefully or at best studiously indifferent, a time of frightened old people, women and children scared shitless, Buddhist bobbing, hands clasped together, jabbering incomprehensibly, a time when all you dould do was pat them on the heads as kindly as possible and tell them " Its O.K, its all right, I won't hurt you, it don't mean nothin?."
It was a time to watch a teenage medic birth a baby in a barnyard and lay it in a manger.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times



It was a time of youthful bravado and lust in tawdry places.
It was a time to swagger into Sin City with a .45 on your hip and a grenade in your pocket, a time to strut past MP's while they looked at their feet, a time to pick fights in Special Forces Clubs.
It was a time for blow jobs from laundrywomen, a time for sweaty boom-boom in the back of shacks made out of flattened tin cans while your buddy stood watch,, a time of almond-eyed women with boyish figures who told you they loved you while they tried to steal your wallet
It was a time to know you were mas hombre then John Wayne, the Cartwrights and Marshall Dillon ever were.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

It was a time of unspoken love and true brotherhood, a time when you realized that your life depended on the man standing next to you, a time when you thought your family was a platoon.
It was a time to risk your life for total strangers, a time to know the most important people in your life only a few months.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

It was a time of horror and revulsion, of shocking death and shocking life.
It was a time to lie to dying boys:"Its O.K. its all right, you're going to be all right;" while their lives bubbled out onto the ground and they puked blood into your lap, a time to wear bloody clothes for days on end.
It was a time to police up body parts not knowing whose were whose and throwing them into the bag any old way just to get the job done.
It was a time to lie on the ground just appreciating being alive and wondering how long it was going to last.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

It was a time for routine heroism, anonymous valor and quaking fear
It was a time to truly not give a damn anymore and a moment later try to find cover behind a two inch tree.
It was a time of courage and cowardice all in the same person at the same time, a time to lie shaking through a mortar attack praying:"Not now, Lord, not this time," a time to jump up and attack, thinking "Oh fuck, I'm dead anyway, and I'm taking all you cocksuckers with me!"
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

It was a time of constant watching and deadly waiting, sleeping with your eyes open, a time to touch your rifle more than your cock.
It was a time to lie by a trail with grenades lined up, Claymore clickers in each hand, snickering to your buddy about how you were going to spoil the whole day of the next poor fucker to come along.
It was a time for too many teenagers with thousand-yard stares, talking goony, arguing about the best way to booby-trap their own bodies.
It was a time to cheer a gunship strike, to laugh and slap five after killing a sniper
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

It was a time of dreams, a time of fantasies about how it was going to be when you got home, a time to plan what to wear and eat and drive.
It was a time of short timers counting the days until DEROS on their helmets, a time to pin medals on khaki uniforms, a time to want thanks for an impossible job done better than possible.
It was a time to go back to a world where you were too young to buy a beer or vote, to people who thought you were a teenage baby killer and could care less about your Senior Trip to Hell.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.




James

Happy just to be alive

[DMZ-LT]

Thank both of you gifted poets. Outstanding ! Tough weekend. Welcome home to all !!

[Deadmanwalking]

You got a lot of heart LT. Made up or no, Tommy is buried under a white cross from San Francisco to Flanders Field..............Deadmanwalking

[catena]

liked it the first time liked just as much the second time..
its pretty.. love reading.. i printed it out.. i am saving it.. so the first year we are all no longer together i can take it out read it and remember you.. and what great friends you all are

james nice poem too

love ya all
Your friend and god bless,
Tina Catena

[Packo]

I remember it from last year and loved it then, love it even more now. Thanks so much for the re-post and the phone call, it made my weekend! Thanks bro!

James,

Boy, you California guys are in the wrong business. Both of you have written incredible pieces. I've copied both......Thanks so much!

AIRBORNE!

ABU!

Packo

[patrick2002]

What a beautiful poems, guys! Thanks!