Listen America and you will hear,
The wounded, the crying, the
Broken hearted Vets.
You can hear him in the night,
Waking up screaming in fright.

If you would ask, some would
tell of their living hell !
If you would ask I would tell,
How close to death I came in
that hell !

If you would look, you might see,
the sightless stare, of the Vet who
is still there.

Ask the Vet what he sees at the
Wall, crying on his knees.

If you are a friend or maybe his lover .
If you ask you might discover,
Why he is a fighter, not a lover.

If you would ask, I would try to make
you see, why children are important tome.

If your senses are quick & keen,
You, My friend, will see
The watering of eyes and quavering of
voice as they tell their stories.

Listen, America, and you will hear
from these men that I hold dear,
A bombardment of tears.

Listen, America, can't you see ?
Without you, these men will
never be home again in the land
of the FREE, FREE, FREE !

NO TITLE 1/3/93

I fell asleep for a minute or two,
When out of the night came sounds,
Bombs dropping close somewhere.

Wide awake, still the sounds were there.
I feel a rush. Again I am back there.

The sounds I hear are a band, next door.
But the rush of blood pumping and my heart thumping.
Take me back to "68." Again I am there.

Oh I'm so high, sleep is denied.
My senses are again alive!

Memories flood my mind.
Oh thank God I'm alive!

Holes in me bulldozer, the truck caught a mortar
The fork lift is no more, dear.
The seat I sat in is shredded like paper.
Shrapnel in my Jacket. No, I'm not hurt dear.

The chow hall now vacant;
A couple of rockets it has taken.
For K.P. I was five minutes late was it fate?

Back to my bunker, five hours later!
Cry, crawl and pray, I hugged that Red ClayJ
Rounds dropping around me from the dump that day.
Could I survive- NO way!

Safe in my bunker I let out nervous laughter.
I light up a cigarette,
my arm is on fire!

Phosphorus burning a hole in my arm.
With a k-bar he digs out the burning ember.

The roof by c-med we redo, it was such a mess.
Damn I didn't know Vietnam had bees.
Little holes at our feet. Damn, guys it's a sniper.

A hole in the strip as large as a dozer;
Please send me somewhere safer.

Helicopters coming in, take cover incoming.
They're Angels of mercy, but they
bring in hell with their coming!

The young men on the strip, laying on stretchers,
They can't take cover. Helicopters coming to take
them from this danger. Helicopters coming, take cover!

Each day our jobs to do.
It's not easy but Seabees can do!

Dec. Jan. Feb. & March.
Awake each night, I've got the mid-watch.

The memories flood my mind.
God, why am I still alive?

The Alamo Hilton, that's our bunker.
That's where we gather with the Marine Major.

At the rock quarry they've breached the line.
Load up, Reaction force, it's time to ride!

As day breaks I again realize
I'm one of those that survived.

Now that a new day has arrived,
I feel that I can close my eyes.


The rats, the rats, Why do I keep
hearing the rats?
Mortars, Rockets, Artillery. The
shells keep falling, so many, so
fast! Hear them squeal, the rats,
they're digging and dying, fast!

Incoming and outgoing. Hear
them squeal. They're scared as
hell. Me too, no where to run, no
hole too safe, no where to hide, I
want to squeal too!

The rats, the Rats, looking for
food. Me too, what about rat

Rats I hate them. I live like them,
an animal, just like them. No
bath, no shave, no hair cut, smell
just like death!

The Rats, the Rats,
where did they all come from?

How long will this Dream last?


Slowly the fog creeps in, at first it was
hard to see. The drizzle hid the fog so well
it was hard to my eyes to see the sly fog
sneaking in.

As I slowly came to realize the fog's
presence, I suddenly found myself on an
airstrip covered with fog.

The airstrip was empty, no planes,
choppers, no one in sight. It was so
peaceful and quiet' no sounds of engines,
no outgoing or incoming. No voices to
ruin the quiet.

Peace, the peace of the dead. That fog hid
the base from prying eyes of the enemy.

As I stood there I prayed for the fog to
both stay and leave. As long as it stayed,
we were safe from incoming. But I
prayed for the sun to burn the fog away so
those dead, dying, and wounded could be
flown to safety.

The fog is both friend and foe. It means
both death and life. I feel selfish not
wanting it to leave. I want to live so I am
lost. I can't have it both ways. Sunshine
for food and ammo; fog so Charlie doesn't
see and can't shoot at me!

Fog you remind me of Red Clay--a plateau
of death and pain!


Names appear out of the past,
For hours my heart beats fast.
First comes the joy I've found,
some one who was once lost!
Then memories flood my mind,
again I see the flash and feel the blast.

Depression and pain I feel,
an emptiness in my chest.
What happened to the rest?

Where is Frenchy, Coffey, Crow and Cann.
Marines from Recon and 1-26 move
through my mind double time.

Rockets, mortars, artillery blast,
sand bags seep red, blood mixed with read clay.
Holes in the runway,must replace,
sections ripped to shreds.

I'm caught in the past,
nowhere to run, can't hide.
See the flash?
Feel the blast?

Who's in that bag, zipped foot to head?
Is it me or one of my Bro?

My dream is over, my eyes were never shut.
It's over, it's done,
I'm home at last!