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Last updated 9Jun06
HOLD YOUR POSITION By Jerry Turner
Short final to the LZ,
Hold your position see,
No matter the fright,
Maintain integrity of the flight,
Fire received, no matter,
Hold your position better,
Pilot shot, it matters not,
Hold your position spot,
Rounds strike all around,
Hold your position inbound,
Return fire with haste,
Hold your position like paste,
LZ Landing hot, troops out,
Hold your position, prevent a rout,
Pray for an up from trail,
Hold your position without fail,
Depart the LZ, under the gun,
Hold your position, don't run,
Hold your position,
Discipline, not just a notion,
Credo of the Slick Drivers,
Hold your position
114th AML White Knight 1965
A Co., 101st Avn. Bn. Warrior 25 1965-66 Soc Trang RVN.
Walking up to the long black wall,
He searches for that one name.
Floods of memories come rushing back,
To a time when they both were young.
It was a hot day, far away,
One split second and everything changed.
He remembers the grief and pain,
As one was lost never to return.
He finds the name on the long black wall,
Touching it gently, he remembers.
Times of laughter in carefree youth,
And the pain of final separation.
Looking through the mirrored surface,
The young man looks at an older face.
His friend from so long ago,
Grown old, as he never had.
He tries to speak words of encouragement,
But the words do not penetrate the cold black wall.
They stare at each other through the veils of time,
Not speaking, just remembering.
--- George Bunting
117th AHC - CE 70-71
VIETNAM POEM BY A SCOT
I see a war and blood around,
I see a swarm of Vietnamese.
I hear the screams as death doth sound,
and pray to God , do stop it please.
I hear the shells go whistling bye,
I see the troops all stumble and fall,
I hear brave men like children cry,
and pray to God, please stop it all.
Now the mortar fire has died away,
the sky opens up, birds sing, out comes the sun,
and I live to see another day,
but some other mother has lost her son,
to the echo of the enemies gun,
the wounded are the lucky.
"Welcome Home" she said
and I almost died
Something buried broke loose
way down deep inside.
My Dad came home a hero from
World War Number Two
I came home despised;
I thought I was a hero, too.
We both fought for our country.
They sent us "over there."
He came home a hero,and I
came home in despair.
They put on a big
parade for him
Bands, confetti, little
kids and speeches
They spit on us at the airport
called us "baby killers"
and sons of bitches.
27 years later,she said
"Welcome Home", and I almost died
something buried broke loose,
burst past my chains, and I cried.
The above poem was written in response to
this one below:
Some 30 years later,they still say that
to each other. Back then, they came
home one by one -
On civilian planes,unappreciated and unknown -
24 hours from Hell to Home.
(Whatever happened to the
Norman Rockwell scenes-
the ones where all the soldiers,
sailors and Marines
got off a boat or a train
and were met by bands
and loved ones and
started over again?)
With Vietnam it seemed
that if "he" wasn't there
(that someone really close to you)
you didn't have to care.
In my heart, I was there
at every plane, at every ship and train -
I waved a flag; I cried and hugged them all -
and with a kiss, I whispered low -
It's all right now, I know, I know.
I wished them hope and peace
and the knowledge that
they weren't alone.
Please accept my thanks
and this belated
--- Christina 1997
(PLEASE PUT 117AHC IN
THE SUBJECT LINE)