He sat there by the Hero's wall, dabbing at the tears,His features drawn and wrinkled, touched by many years;His hair was white, his eyes blood red, oblivious to all,Then he stood erect--with a certain pride--and pointed to the wall. "There's Jim, he was my Sergeant, a warrior to the last,He was taken down in Hue City, by a mortar blast;We'd been pinned down by snipers for an hour, maybe more,When Jim stood up and rallied us, and led us to the fore. There's Doc, he was our Corpsman, a healer without peer,I never knew a Warrior who held life so dear;He risked his life to save us, each and every day,And in the end, he paid with his, a hell of a price to pay. And there is our Lieutenant, for a while he led us well,But he bought it on the Ho Chi Minh, his last words "War is hell";I wonder why I'm standing here...to say my last goodbye,I should have died in that bloody stench, yet here my brothers lie. It's a mystery that I lived through it, able to bid my friends farewell,Maybe they gave their lives that I might live, their stories here to tell;To carry on their hopes and dreams of a world which could be free,To be duty and honor's spokesman, to shout out "Don't tread on me!" I remember returning to my home, to a nation rife with scorn,For the sacrifice of many, damning the day we were born;Some called me "Baby killer", they cursed me long and loud,But through it all I stood erect, calm, assured and proud. Proud to have known my valiant friends, Warriors to the end,Proud to have fought for my country, proud to truly defendThe principles which our fathers passed on for us to live:Life, liberty and happiness...what more can we give?" Jim Morris
Twilight Imagery, Inc.