Honor and Courage

        Old Glory

Thirteen bold stripes of red and white,

Flap and wave in the bright sunlight.

Fifty stars stand tall and true, 

Upon a field of the bluest blue.

Across the seven seas from shore to shore,

She has stood tall and proud before each door.

At times tattered, torn and full of holes,

She has brought new life to many souls.

Each day she’s up, each eve she’s down,

To keep the peace the world around.

Hats are off and salutes are rendered,

As long as she stands, I’ll not surrender.

1992

The Clearing

Alone…yet not alone, I sit in the darkness thrashing through the jungle in my mind. I am fighting to find a clearing, a clearing to settle down with my thoughts of you. As I envision your sweetness and the sparkle in your eyes, another face pushes its way into my conciseness. It seems, this face has been more times a part of my life than life itself. It is the face of death. I strain to hear your voice call out my name, as cries of pain and anguish feel my ears. Your sweet perfume clouds my mind as the stench of death fills the air. I reach out desperately to hold love and gentleness… but again I find a weapon of hatred and malice fills my hands. I run thrashing through the jungle to find a clearing, a clearing where I will be lifted away to safety. 

1986

Life Everlasting

The night is so black you wonder if you have gone blind. The air is so still you have to remember to breathe. The silence is so maddening, it reaches deep into your mind, pulling at your very soul. The heat is so incredible you think you will die. Die you may as you watch green-white death streak across the earth in search of human flesh. Your eyes strain to see in the darkness while visions of her flood your brain. You fight the overwhelming urge to scream out, the pain of loneliness is so intense. You are alone in a world of madness where lives are discarded and not considered for their true value. You are young, but the only childhood you can remember is stuck so far back in your memories it is hard to recall them. You fear not of dying, you fear of growing old. Growing old without the pleasure of growing up in a normal atmosphere.  

Then, your mind’s world is shattered as the sun throws its first rays of dawn upon your face. You crouch deeper in your hole, holding tight to your life. Holding tight to this weapon of life and death that has and will continue to preserve you.

1986 

Un-answered Question

He stands there silently with tears in his eyes, staring into the thick dark jungle.  He says not a word for fear the enemy will hear.

“Why? Why are we here?  What is it all for?  Last week we lost three guys, yesterday Sammy died.  He had a wife and two kids.  Today, just after sun-up we got hit again.  Chuck died and Jeff lost a leg. The Lieutenant may be blind for life.”

“Me?  I’m just so damn scared my turn is next. When can we go home and leave this Hell Hole, they call The Nam far behind?”

A grenade explodes. He finds himself on his face in the mud.  Killing again to stay alive.

“Why?”

And on the other side of the darkness, a young North Vietnamese Soldier asks the same un-answered question.

“Why, what is it all for? Peace?”    

1986

As you sit in silence, in a shallow crater made by a mortar... through the unbearable heat and stench you feel an unnatural chill come over you. You have felt this cold before... While standing on the sidelines at a High School Foot Ball game in late December with ice and snow on the field, it was 20 below. This icy chill in your body which cuts like a North Atlantic wind... is the breath of death passing through your battle torn comrades.  You bow your head in silent prayer hugging yourself tight to protect your soul from the chill... "God be with us as we pass through the Valley of Death."  

10/21/1986 

…And as the morning sun ascends over Saigon City, a Soldier stands with the telephone pressed to his ear, straining to hear his mother's voice across the distance and static. 

 "Yea Mom, I'll be home in two weeks, my time is up I'll be there by"... 

 "Son... Son your father and I are not going to be here, we are moving to a smaller house. We're getting old and well son we can't take it anymore. The riots, the killing, the bad news you know what I mean? Can't you go to your Uncle Joe’s in New Jersey when you get back?" 

"But mom, I want to come Home!  Do you know what I mean?  I'm so tired of this killing, no support, I'm so tired"... 

 "Son someone is at the door, I've got to go, Love you, take care.  Oh... Son, have you killed? Son... Son"... 

 "Bye mom, Love you too"  

As the blood red sun descends into the jungle somewhere in the delta, he stalks the enemy to a tiny village. The snap of AK-47’s is answered by the pop, pop of M16 fire. 

And as the Cong break and run, a small child is suddenly in the line of fire. A grenade bounces on the ground near the innocent one. The Soldier reacts as he has reacted many times before.  

...And as the sky above is hidden by the dark clouds that begin to appear, the Soldier lies there mortally wounded, smiling.  

"Mom, I'm coming home."  

09/25/1986 

Transference

Wounded - there I did lie

Deep within myself, wanting to die 
My eyes bound by white 
To protect them from the light 

Flesh torn by metal when the IED blew 
Scars upon scars some hidden from view 
Wounded, there I did lie
Though not mortally, I wanted to die 

Gently caressed to soothe and heal 
Behind the pain sweet release, I did feel 
Weeks into months the Angel at my side 
Soft hands upon my head, still I wanted to die 

Through a shattered voice few words did I share 
Deafened ears no sound, just silence in the air 
Hands in comforting hands, there I did lie 
No longer dead within, but I still wanted to die 

A warm embrace, cheek to cheek, time to go
Self-pity and regret emptiness in my soul 
The silence and endless darkness deep
I crave for light an endless sleep

Mortally wounded, dead deep inside
Quietly sobbing I lie down to die.   

2004

An Overdue Letter                                                      

30 September 2004

Hey Bro’

Sorry it has taken me so long to write. I’ve started lots of letters, but I just couldn’t get the words to stick to the paper. But anyway, here I am after all these years writing to just check in and say, What’s up. 

The other day I was thinking about when you looked out for me the time I broke Mrs. Johnson’s window with our baseball. You took the blame ‘cause you knew my Pops would beat the hell outa me if he knew I had done it. And the time we got caught cheating on our history exam. Man, you was always the smart one.  It’s hard to believe we made it through twelve years of school and survived the gangsters and the babes. 

Remember how we used to make our plans, shaping our dreams so we could get a piece, a Big Ass piece of the American pie?  We’d joke that the whole world would know our names.  You’d say, “We are going to be millionaires, and you can chisel that in stone.”      

Remember when my number came up, and I headed for the Marine Corps Recruiting Office instead of the Army draft line?  You said, “No way Roy my man, we’re doing this thing together”.  And I’ll never forget the look on that Marine Corps Recruiters’ face when we both walked in, Good-to-Go. That’s when our dreams and plans got put on hold, to do this thing. Heck, a couple of years in the Corps might do us some good. Ain’t nothing but a thing, we’d said. 

But you know Bro’ what I remember the most - is the day that that damn Betty bounced in and took you away. I remember too, that when I caught your glance in the final moment, I was sure I saw you shrug your shoulders as if to say – “Sorry ‘P’ but I guess I won’t’ be around to see you get your piece of the American Pie.”    I can’t help it man. I still hate that bitch and the people who put her in your path. I’m mad Bro.’ I’m mad at you for breaking your promise and mad at the whole damn world too. 

Hey, sorry man, got carried away for a minute.  Well anyway, I’ll close for now; catch you on the flip side. 

Hang Tight Bro’ Your ‘P’ till the end,

Roy

PS - Did you know your name is chiseled on a wall, a granite wall, for the whole world to see?

Red Shirts

Who are those boys that wear the Red?

The ones who never eat or see their bed.
Through blistering heat and chilling rain,
They work and slave and endure the pain.
 
These are the Ordies of One-O-Five,
That hang the balance of who lives or dies.
They load the Airplanes one by one,
And send them off into the morning sun.
       
They never know the ending of the job they’ve done,
Until the planes and pilots return from a bombing run.
After all is told and again the bombs are compiled,
You will see the boys in Red give a hearty smile.
       
As the day comes to and end and the sun goes down,
The Ordies job is finished, till the next turn-around.
He cares not for glory or a pat on the back,
Just mail from his loved ones and clean sheets on his rack.
 
The cruise is long, the sea is wide,
His thoughts of home the work can’t hide.
May God watch over and protect these men,
And bring them safely home to you again.

1982

AO2 John V. Prater, 1982

'Ordies' are the Navy’s Aviation Ordnance Men (Women). While assigned to an Aviation Squadron, they are responsible for maintenance and repairs of Aircraft Weapons Systems. They are also tasked with the loading of Gatlin Guns, Bombs, Missiles and other Air Launched Weapons.

The Transformation

That dreaded day is almost here
the one all Wogs truly fear
It is the day of an unfair trial
when the Wogs pride the Shell Backs defile
         
Through slop and slime, they are made to crawl
tripping and stumbling all around they fall
Whips and chains land heavy blows
then at last before the King in rows

The lowly Wogs have met their fate
so slowly in numbers eight by eight
Their sluggish bodies begin to change
though they fight and scream in fits of rage

Upon their backs grows a wondrous shell

While to all Polly-Wogs they bid farewell

Soon to a new fraternity they will belong

a glorious Shellback so proud and strong

1982

King Neptune 

Onward We Sail

As through the troubled sea we sail, the waves and white caps reach out like hands of resistance attempting to restrain our forward movement. But - to no avail. Our strong and reliable engines drive us ever onward ignoring the open arms of the deep. Our helm is tied on a course straight and true. No winds or storms of the sea shall keep us from our destination. Our Home Port, Our Loved Ones and Our Wives. 

1982

The Brave Are Many

A Brave Young Soldier crawls through a muddy trench along a line between good and evil. The air he breathes burns his lungs. His eyes strain to see her face. And, as the poisonous gas, its grisly task done, rises toward the sky, his soul follows close behind.

A Brave Young Soldier marches through the Jungles of the Philippine Islands. Head held high, back straight, eyes forward, courage strong and faith unbroken. A death march to Bataan endured.

A Brave Young Soldier survives the cruel and merciless hell war of Vietnam. Now he fights a vicious microscopic demon devouring his body cell by cell. A lifetime of dreams not yet realized, as he kisses his bride of some thirty years one last time.

A Brave Young Soldier lies face down in the sand of a far-away land. He is mortally wounded, his crimson blood soaked up by the desert. His tears fall like shinning bits of silver, falling not for pain nor fear of death. As he cries, he sees generations before him of Brave Young Soldiers, reaching out their hands to welcome him home. Fighting to resist the flight to heaven he cries, “Am I the last?” As he passes from this life, he fears he is the last.

“Form up Lads.” The Sergeant barks as the Brave Young Soldier takes his place among God’s Heavenly Honor Guard.

A Brave Young Bride holds the folded flag. Her heart broken and bleeding. Blowing a kiss to her Brave Young Soldier, she feels a kick from within her womb.  

“You will not be the last, my Brave Young Soldier.” She whispers softly.  

2010

A Talk with God

"While in this jungle I talk with you,
I feel the peace and joy of Love.                            
No pain or fear shall I know,
For my strength is from above.
 
The enemy is over us now,
As death screams through the night.
We lay in-wait for our destiny,
While mortar shells make their flight.
 
Though the enemy is strong in count,
And I and my comrades before morn’ may die.
I feel the hand of one so great,
Reach down from the star filled sky."        
                  
And now...
As the sun takes its place in the east,
I hear words of faith soft and low.          
And as I listen to his prayer,
I beg you save his soul.”

1982

Sailor's Prayer

Oh, dear Lord hear this my prayer, on the sea so far from land.
Watch over me and my shipmates. Keep us from harm; hold us in your hand.

We ask for a star filled night, to guide us on our way.
A full clean wind, so from our course we do not stray.

When at last our mission is at end, and homeward we are bound. 
We ask for a calm blue sea, till we hear the Sea Gull's sound.

 
Now the village lights we see, all our loved ones and our friends. 
We thank you Lord and praise your name, for bringing us home again.

1982

Back Against the Wall

Back against the wall, opposite the door, not near, nor far. 

Not because I am afraid, I do it to feel safe, in control… 

Feet flat on the floor, my hands in my lap, I wait, ready.

Eyes closed, yet I do not sleep. I am aware. I listen.

The clock sweeps away the minutes, the tick-tock soothes, it distracts.

Voices, soft others not, people fill the room, now becoming smaller.

Perfumes, carcinogens, food and body odors abound. Nostrils burn.

Senses heighten, tingling skin, beads of sweat on a furrowed brow.

  

My eyes now scanning and processing, my mind holding in reserve.

Aware, vigilant, poised, muscles become taunt, body coiled.

Eyes again closed, hoping to disappear, to avoid human interaction.

Personal space violated, the crowd closes in. My head begins to spin.

Heart pounding, ears ringing, lungs gasping for air.

Rise, pressing forward, escape. No eye contact, few words.

Knees weakened, eyes blurred searching for the door.

There, the door, so far away. Blocked by others, chest aching. 

  

Panic sweeping over, anger and frustration abound. Why?  

Smiles and nods, feebly returned. Embarrassed and ashamed. 

Dodging and weaving toward the door, to safety.

Sun upon my face, open space. The mind relieved.    

Deep breaths, calming thoughts, begin to refresh.

A walk, regaining strength, regaining composure.

Return to the clinic, again a secluded place.

Back against the wall, opposite the door, not near, nor far.

2008

To The West

On the bow of his ship he stands,

the warm ocean breeze in his face.

While tears begin to fill his eyes,

he looks off into the vast space.

The setting sun catches his attention,

and he slowly turns to the west.

She is there, his loving wife and sons,

on the other side of the world, to the west.

Tonight, as he thinks of her and her of him,

their love for each other is strong.

Their love grows with each passing day, 

it will never fail through the time be long.

From day to day - month to month,

their love keeps on flowing.

Flowing through his blood - through his soul,

and the evidence is in his eyes - in his knowing...

As the sun sets to the west....