Aftermath: THE QUESTION
After the places I've been,
After the things I've done,
Now that the fight is over ...
Now that the race is run;
After the black fear of midnight ...
After the Hell-blazing sun ...
After pale death in the dawn-light ...
After the knife and the gun ...
(Now that I've put them behind me
Cursing the work they had done.)
After the sound and the fury ...
Corpses stacked by the ton ...
Broken, lifeless and useless ...
Finished ... (But, what had they won?)
After losing all that I'd lived for ...
(After knowing what I'd lost),
After surviving the slaughter,
After counting the cost ...
Now that the fight is over,
Now that the race is run ...
What is there left to be after ...
After the things I've done?
I remember still one morning,
The mist hanging over the land
And death coming down from the mountain
like God's great vengeful hand.
I can't name all the men who died there,
(Though, "Losses were light", they say)
But ... we lost about half the platoon I was with
In the first dim light of the day.
There is one name I remember ...
And I always will, I fear,
It was freckle-faced Joe
With his first mustache ...
(Joe was my grenadier)
Joe was my hootch-mate,
Joe was my pard,
Joe was a friend
when the going was hard.
Joe was a singer with a bawdy song
To make us laugh when the trail was long;
Joe was talk in the shade at noon ...
An old harmonica and a back-home tune.
Joe was his mother's only son,
Joe was laughter, Joe was fun ...
Joe was all that a man should be
His heart was strong and his mind was free ...
But then ...
Joe was something that jerked and screamed
Like a rabbit caught in a snare ...
Clawing hands and rolling eyes ...
Brains oozing out through hair ...
Joe was blood on my face
And tears, scalding hot.
Joe was ... Joe was ...
Joe was not.
After the places I've been,
After the people I've known,
After the walk through the valley,
After the evenings alone,
What is there left to be after ...
After the 'Joes' are gone?
FOR YOU, TYRONE
Hey, Tyrone! Listen up
if you can hear me!
I've got some things
I'd like to say to you.
They're things I should have said
while you were living...
but, I guess I kind of thought
you always knew.
I never told you how I felt
about our friendship...
or put my arms around you,
'til you died;
and' I never said I loved you
like a brother...
but, it was in my heart
and in the tears I cried!
I never told you that
because you stood beside me,
I faced things I never could
have faced alone.
But...if I had the skill...
and, if it should be God's will...
someday I'd write a song
for you, Tyrone!
I wish I could have told your Mom
about that hillside,
and how her brave young Ty
went charging through
to stop that gun and save his
friends from slaughter;
I know she would
have been so proud of you!
I'd like to tell the world
about your courage,
and say all the things
I never said to you;
Like, how your friendship
seemed to make me stronger,
to do things I hated,
but, I had to do!
For another chance to say these
things, in person...
God knows, I'd give up
every dream I own!
And...if my talent was that good...
and, if I thought I could
Someday, I'd write a song
For You, Tyrone!
...I remember how you
prayed to God, each evening,
with your helmet off and
with your young head bowed;
and, how you'd laugh and talk to me
about your Jesus...
and, sometimes, you'd read your Bible
right out loud!
I know your faith in
God's essential goodness,
later led me to find Jesus
on my own!
And...if He'll help me find a way
to say the things I have to say...
Someday I'll write a song
For You, Tyrone!
"A Shot in The Dark"
His body trembles against me,
Iron fingers clutch my shirt ...
(Waking suddenly in a sweat,
I feel them twisting there)
The back of his head missing ...
A hole in his chest ...
Gray lips whisper,
"Tell Mama ... tell Mama ...!"
Tell Mama what?
... The gray lips never said.
CANDLES IN THE RAIN
As I remember Bill, he was a little odd;
he never did believe in God ...
he used to say, "That's superstition ... or a lie!"
It's a comfort to some folks, I guess,
but, there's no plan to all this mess."
"We are born to struggle ...
and when the struggle ends ... we die!"
This is the only life we'll ever see;
there is no brave new world to be!
There'll be no heaven or hell for us to gain!
After all life's pain and love and laughter
there is no sweet-shining great hereafter!
"No ... we'll just go out, like candles in the rain!"
He'd say, "If there's a God, I wish I knew him!
I'd offer every heart-beat to him
if he could find some good in this and make it plain."
"If He could only show me why
we live and love and fight and die ...
to know, at the end, that all was done in vain!"
We have no soul that seeks salvation ...
death won't be our liberation ...
when our feeble life, at last, expires
the world won't miss our little fires ...
no ... we'll just go out like candles in the rain!"
"Some dedicate their lives to serving others
and walk, all their days, in great humility;
they say we are all created equal: all are brothers ...
and in the best of worlds, that's how it ought to be;
but, I know every life is not created equal
and, sometimes, even death can't make us free."
"So, some are saddled with a burden that's too heavy,
and sometimes one is broken by the strain;
and, while death may bring relief from sorrow ...
there will be no glad tomorrow ... no ...
we'll just go out like candles in the rain."
Some say we struggle ever onward, ever upward,
toward some goal that only God can plainly see.
They say, "Put your faith in love and truth and justice;
blood sacrifice is all that sets us free!"
So we pay in blood, (and broken hearts),
for the little ground we gain ... and then,
we just go out like candles in the rain.
*************************
I remember Bill when he was living ...
he was generous and forgiving;
the kind of man you're proud to call your friend.
I remember all the trails we walked ...
the smoke-wrapped evenings when we talked ...
and, I remember, I was with him at the end.
I'm glad I never felt the call
to judge him and I'm glad I never tried;
but, I remember how he stood up tall
and cursed the man that shot him, as he died.
I prefer to remember him with Tyrone or Pancho or Big Jim,
laughing at some boyish prank they'd played;
or, like young warriors in their prime, standing up time after time
and charging forward, unafraid,
through a curtain of smoke into a living hell.
At a nod from me they'd take a breath,
pick up fate's dice and roll with death ...
it was a game they hated, but, oh! they played it well!
Now, my eyes grow weary from the strain
of looking through a curtain of smoke again
and trying hard to see what's up ahead ...
(The boys can't help me ... they're all dead ... )
and, I believe in God ...but ... I remember Bill ...
and I wonder if anyone knows God's will?
I feel an answer but uncertainty lingers ...
as I fumble the dice with shaky fingers
and the question runs through my mind again:
After all life's pain and love and laughter
does there come some great hereafter?
Or do we just go out ... like candles in the rain?
Aftermath: The Hill
I remember a hill they told us to take,
And I had fourteen men ...
'til the mortars found us, and in their wake
We charged the place with ten.
The hill was a tangle of rocks and vines
and bushes about waist high ...
No place to fight, no place to hide ...
But, a damned good place to die!
The five of us dug in up on top
and the choppers came for the dead;
Then: "There's been a mistake ...
We told you to take
the wrong damned hill", they said!
After the shooting is over,
After the wounds have bled,
After the trial and the torment ...
After the thing they said ...
What is there left to be after ...
After they've come for the dead?
Then there was an ambush at midnight
when the fighting was hand to hand,
and a star-shell dropped from a flare ship
to light up the un-real land;
We clubbed, bayoneted and strangled
'til the trail was wet with the gore ...
and, they fought like very devils 'til
the thirteen of us were just four.
Then the fighting was over and
the search for our dead begun;
We radioed for a chopper
and told them what we'd done.
The flare was nearly finished ...
the light was about to fail ...
when something moved in the shadows ...
A corpse rising up in the trail!
He was wounded and weak ... maybe dying ...
but doing his best to stand ...
Was he cursing at me ... or crying?
I hadn't time to understand!
He was armed-and-turning-to-face-me-
-and-thunder-was-in-my-hand!
In the half-light I found the body,
He was a kid of about thirteen ...
He had an empty Russian carbine,
but, he didn't look all that mean.
After the thunder has spoken,
After darkness has fallen again,
After he's bloody and broken,
After the grief and the pain ...
What is there left to be after ...
After the child is slain?
The Ballad of
"THE REVEREND TYRONE!"
When I hear a good preacher, I listen ,
and try to learn all that I can.
They talk about sin and salvation and
expound on God's redemption plan;
As I listen I follow their scriptures
in a dog-eared old Bible I own,
But, on their best day they can't equal
just "A word" from the Reverend Tyrone!
They preach every baptism,
denomination and schism,
and all about that Holy-Ghost power!
They say Christ will return
and this old world will burn ...
though no man knows the day or the hour.
Well, I know "God is love ..."
and I know heaven's above
and that only the blood will atone...
But, the greatest lesson I've learned,
in my memory was burned
by just a word from The Reverend Tyrone!
Now, Tyrone was not a "real" preacher,
though he hoped that one day he would be;
at that time ... this was back in the sixties ...
he was just a Marine PFC.;
I was an infantry Sgt.,
and I led a marine rifle squad;
We were a dozen of "America's meanest" ...
and one Bible-totin' servant of God!
Yeah, Tyrone used to talk about Jesus,
and how, "only His blood would atone"
and those "tough guys" were only half joking
when they called him "The Reverend Tyrone!"
He may have been an amateur preacher ...
but he was a certified ground-pounding "Grunt"!
"In a fight, never look back for Tyrone ...
He'll be somewhere out in the front!"
Tyrone, when the battle was raging,
was a man on whom I could rely ...
when I said "GO!" there was no hesitation ...
and not a shadow of fear in his eye!
"Way out of Da Nang on a hillside;
pinned down in the afternoon sun ...
Tyrone was moving up forward ...
he was trying to take out that gun;
as he disappeared I prayed for him,
for I knew, if he failed, we were dead.
Then, through the dust and the smoke,
Tyrone's rifle spoke;
and I knew we could move on ahead!
We were charging and cheering for Tyrone
as we started moving in for the kill ...
our mission was all but completed
when destruction came down on that hill!
Somebody was yelling "INCOMING!" and
all creation just went up in flames!
The earth trembled and shook
like God had opened his Book
and called us all by our first names!
Well, somehow, some of us survived it ...
... that's all that needs to be said.
We started digging in on the hill-top,
and searching for our wounded and dead.
When I found Tyrone in that crater ...
somehow, my legs just wouldn't stand;
he lay blasted and bloodied and broken ...
his gun and his bible in hand.
All heaven and earth fell around me
as I held him close to me and cried ...
and Tyrone preached his life's greatest sermon
when he just whispered "Jesus" and died!
I've put long years and long roads behind me
from those days when we blackened the skies;
but, those old battles still rage all around me,
each night when I close my eyes.
I'm haunted by the rattle of choppers
and the smell of new death in the sun ...
by the weight of the pack on my shoulders
and the rapid-fire "stomp" of the gun.
We did things that I'm not too proud of and,
I can't forget ... but, I'll try,
'cause Tyrone said God forgives, when we ask him ...
... and I never knew Tyrone to lie.
Now, I know, when all things are considered,
that I have a really good life ...
surrounded by my beautiful children
and cherished by my loving wife.
But, sometimes, those old memories run through me,
and drag me right back there again;
when I walk out at night they walk with me ...
the smoke and the death and the pain.
Then, as the evening shadows enfold me
and when I'm certain I'm quite alone ...
Sometimes I look upwards and whisper,
"Thank you, Sir! Reverend Tyrone!"
They preach every baptism,
denomination and schism,
and all about that Holy-Ghost power!
They Christ will return
and this old world will burn ...
though no man knows the day or the hour.
Well, I know heaven's above
and I know "God is love"
and that only the blood will atone!
But, the greatest lesson I've learned,
in my memory was burned
by "Just a word from The Reverend Tyrone!"
Aftermath: Victory!!
Out of Da Nang, in the valley
in the hell of the noonday sun,
We trapped "the Gooks" in a village
where they had no direction to run;
We remembered the times they'd escaped us
(For we hunted them day after day)
We remembered the mines and the mortars
and the "Joes" they had wasted that way;
We were changed from soldiers to War-lords ...
The avenging angels of fate!
And the war-cry that rose from our
skirmish line was the unleashed spirit of hate!
But, this was no half-baked ambush,
they had planned and dug in deep;
We were "Paid Professional Killers",
But, they were making us earn our keep!
"Charlie" can't be taken lightly ...
He'll fight if he can't run away;
But, this time we had them cornered
and, damned if they weren't gonna pay!
We took cover and called for an air strike
and the planes roared in on high;
They bombed and strafed and blasted
'til the smoke blacked out the sky!
Then the planes backed off and we charged
them to clear what was left behind;
We had orders to "Search and destroy",
and that's just what we had in mind!
I raged and rampaged in my anger
'til my gun barrel blistered my hand.
We swore we'd shoot'em running ...
if they hadn't the courage to stand!
We killed more "Gooks" than I'd ever seen
and, not many of our own were lost.
We thought it a glorious triumph ...
(But, we hadn't counted all the cost.)
We searched for guns and bodies,
and one survivor we found;
A naked new-born boy child,
in a hole blasted out in the ground,
Protected by the body of a woman ...
and, we stared in stark surprise ...
Not a scratch was on his body ... but ...
a "Gook" with pale blue eyes?
He screamed each time we touched him
but, we couldn't just leave him alone.
Not much was left of the woman
but a tangle of blood and bone!
(The woman? Did I call her a woman?)
She was a child with a child of her own!
The battle was over and we won it, but,
not many were there who smiled;
The glory was snatched from our victory
By the wail of a blue eyed child.
After we've burned the village,
After we've blackened the skies,
After we've slaughtered his mother,
After we've heard his cries,
What is there left to be after ...
After we've seen his eyes?
THE BALLAD OF PANCHO'S GLORY
Hail Mary, full of grace.
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women,
And blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
Pray for us sinners,
Now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.
Amen.
I really don't care what they say,
Pancho's not an M.I.A. ,
I saw him fall, near Quang Tri, late one night.
The next day I tried to explain
but they just thought I'd gone insane ...
and, after all these years the record is still not right.
From the Barrios of San Antone
he came ... and mostly walked alone;
But Pancho was my friend, I knew him well.
It was I who wrote to Pancho's Mother ...
wrote his sister ... wrote his brother ...
they had to know the way it was when Pancho fell!
It was the night of Pancho's glory!
Why won't they let me tell that story?
Doctor, I know all there is to tell!
It was the hour of his soul's liberation ...
Dark as deepest Hell's damnation!
We fought all night ... the time when Pancho fell.
How it happened was just this way;
we'd been point squad on a sweep all day ...
the mosquitoes were driving us out of our mind,
and, it was raining so hard we were all half blind ...
at the edge of a paddy and half in the wood ...
trapped in a mine field ... they'd caught us real good!
"Charlie" had booby-trapped it well,
and the system he used was straight from hell!
We couldn't move and we could barely fight ...
it was raining again and we'd lost the light.
Jim was wounded ... maybe dying ...
out in the darkness we heard others crying.
"Hail Mary", I heard Pancho saying ...
and I thought it might be time for praying.
Jim was hurt and Pancho wanted to go;
I understood but I had to say no.
They had been close friends right from the start;
(It was hero worship on Pancho's part!)
But, I had to do what was best for the squad ...
And, I couldn't expect any help from God.
The night kept closing in around us ...
after a while the mortars found us ...
They had cut us off from our platoon ...
They would try to over-run us soon.
Ammunition running low ...
no response on the radio;
A flicker of light, sometimes, from a flare ...
but then the tracers filled the air!
With a team in the paddy and two in the wood ...
we just held on the best that we could.
It was the night of Pancho's Glory ...
Why won't they listen to his story?
It's not an easy thing to have to tell.
It was the hour of his soul's liberation ...
Dark as deepest Hell's damnation!
It rained all night ... the time when Pancho fell.
We just kept holding all that night,
not daring to believe we'd see the light.
"Hail Mary ..." a whisper that was barely a breath ...
"Mother of God ..." the mortars were falling ...
"Holy Mary" ... I heard Pancho calling ...
"Pray for us sinners, now at this hour of our death!"
"Mother of God!" ... that rain kept falling ...
out in the darkness we could hear Jim calling ...
there was nothing we could do to ease his pain.
All night long I heard Pancho praying;
"Holy Mother!" He just kept saying,
"Pray for us sinners ... at this hour of our death."
"Hail Mary, full of Grace," --
I saw the tears on Pancho's face --
"Mother of Mercy ... Holy Queen," --
he was loading another magazine ...
"Pray for us in this dark hour;
Shield us with thy Son's great power!"
Look!!
Can't you see the tracers streaming?
Can't you hear the wounded screaming?
If I'm lying, let'em damn my soul to Hell!
Can't you feel the mortars falling?
Can't you hear Jim out there calling?
Doctor, don't you care how Pancho fell?
They say I lost my mind, that night;
for all I know, they could be right ...
I know I lost a lot ... when Pancho fell.
I just reported what I had seen ...
my record shows a good marine ...
but, I guess, sometimes it seems that I'm not well.
If you weren't there how could you know?
How can you tell me it's not so?
Doctor, I was there when Pancho fell!
Then, we were half-drowned in the mud ...
it seemed Jim's cries would freeze my blood;
Three times they came and we held on,
with most of our ammunition gone.
Pancho and I were not far apart ...
I knew this night was breaking his heart ...
I tried to say something to comfort him,
But he couldn't hear me ... he was just hearing Jim.
There was a big old log that we were behind ...
and ... I thought Pancho'd lost his mind!
He threw down his rifle and his helmet too ...
I knew, too late, what he meant to do!
"Forgive me, Father", I heard him say ...
And he signed the cross as he turned away;
Then he was over the log and into the night ...
from somewhere there came just the faintest light.
Mary praised, above all women!
Through the mud I saw Pancho swimming!
I tried to cover him the best I could,
but, I didn't much think it would do any good.
When he disappeared, I started to pray ...
though I really didn't know what to say.
Then I saw him come struggling back
just as they started their last attack!
He had Jim's M-60 in his right hand ...
and I saw him turning to make a stand!
Somehow ... the air turned a little more bright ...
and an alien war-cry ripped the night!
With Jim's body draped on his left shoulder ...
he stood his ground like a super-soldier!
Now, I was shooting more than praying ...
Jim's M-60 just kept spraying ...
no chance that we could hold'em back ...
everywhere I looked was a wave of black!
Blessed Mary! Holy Mother!
He took one round ...and then another!
But, Jim's gun never wavered from his side!
Queen of Heaven ... hear my cry!
Let me reach him before I die!
Let me take my stand at Pancho's side!
Crawling ... Praying ... running to him ...
I saw the tracers rip right through him ...
they shot him fourteen times that I could tell!
His legs trembling ... knees starting to bend ...
I knew that we had reached the end ...
But, I was half way there before Jim's body fell!
Again that war-cry ripped the air ...
The night grew brighter everywhere ...
Pancho's body floated down ...
and stretched out ... left side to the ground ...
a candle burned at his head and feet ...
and I smelled incense ... strange and sweet!
From somewhere, suddenly, a lady there!
In a cloud of brightness in the air ...
in blue and white all wrapped around ...
she stood and never touched the ground!
I saw the Lady turning to me ...
felt her brown eyes burning through me ...
nothing-anywhere-to-hide-me-
I-felt-something-break-inside-me ...
and, I floated ... looking down from way up high!
I can't describe how it was raining,
but, the light from those candles just kept gaining
'til it seemed to light up all the earth and sky!
Blessed Virgin! Holy Queen!
Most Glorious sight I've ever seen!
She lifted Pancho like a child ...
kissed his brow and then she smiled ...
stroked his hair and rocked him to and fro.
Hail Mary, full of Grace!
She wiped the tears from Pancho's face ...
and ... I'm sure she smiled at me as she turned to go!
Then, somehow, I was back in the mud ...
binding Jim's wounds to stop the blood.
Pancho and the Lady were no longer there ...
no sign of a candle anywhere.
Jim never spoke another word ...
hasn't yet ... the last I heard.
They keep him locked in a ward, down there ...
restrained ... in his bed or in a chair.
When I'd visit he was hard to recognize ...
like there was nobody there behind the eyes.
He didn't know me and I barely knew him ...
something in that chair ... not really Jim.
You asked, and I've told it the best I can.
That's all you can ask of any man.
It was an awful night ... but, each did his best ...
if you don't mind, Doctor, I need some rest.
But!
Mother of God! That rain keeps falling!
Out in the dark I still hear Jim calling ...
and, Doc ... these damned old pills don't ease the pain!
Down all the roads that I keep walking ...
all night long I hear Pancho talking ...
I guess I'll hear him as I draw my final breath;
All through the night he keeps on praying;
"Blessed Mother", he just keeps saying,
"Pray for us sinners ... now, in this hour of our death!"
Aftermath: Night Patrol
We fought and marched and marched and fought
for longer than I can tell,
and wanted to die, but knew if we did
We'd fight and march in hell!
Our minds and humor were twisted then ...
we had a joke for the scared new men;
"You can lose your rifle, pack and all
But hang on to your old dog-tag ...
You're going home pretty soon, you know,
and they'll need it for your plastic bag!"
"Yea, though I walk through the valley,
Not a shadow of fear will I know!"
"For I am the meanest son-of-a-bitch
in this valley (Ask 'Charlie', he'll tell you so!)."
We watched them come and go and die ...
Heard them curse and pray and cry ...
and, still we fought ... I don't know why ...
Fire and maneuver, search and clear,
Mine and mortar, midnight fear ...
Patrol and ambush and the sniper gun ...
invisible ... taking us one by one ...
Invisible booby traps and mines
blasting holes in our skirmish lines ...
Hold your fire ... don't lose your head ...
Search for the gooks and count your dead ...
Sleep with your rifle in both hands tight,
In the drizzling rain on an ink-black night ...
(Yes, it's true, you can sleep in the rain
if you're too numb already to feel the pain).
Sleep an hour today ... or two tomorrow ...
if you sleep too long you'll feel the sorrow
For the dead they've loaded and hauled away ...
That's the price of sleep ... but, who can pay?
How long it went on, I really don't know ...
Maybe just a hundred years or so.
It seemed an eternity ... and this I can tell,
After being there I'll never fear hell!
After the fighting and dying,
After mines and one thing or another,
After bodies all blasted and broken,
After picking up pieces of brothers ...
What is there left to be after ...
After we've wrote to their mothers?
I was called a leader and I led my men,
(God knows I did!!)
As true as I damned-well could!
But every day there was Hell to pay,
And none of the nights were good.
We died like flies 'neath the smoke-black skies
In the stench of the rice paddy muck ...
and, at night, they gave us patrols to run,
(God! Ain't it just our luck!)
We went on that way day after day
and, night after night, the same.
They promised relief and they promised rest ...
But the rest and relief never came.
I led my men and I pitied them
and I begged to let them rest;
But, "Sergeant, we've got a job to do
and your men are some of the best:
Take them and patrol the trail tonight
to the north and keep moving on;
We'll meet you at 'check-point Charlie' ...
if you hustle you'll make it by dawn."
I led my men and I watched them fade
'til the clothes hung loose on the frame;
They were sunken-eyed and hollow-cheeked ...
(The rest and relief never came).
Then, half of us had the jungle-rot;
Most of my men were smoking pot ...
(We'll die anyway ... so why the hell not?)
I led my men and I cried for them
in the dark when there was none to see.
I prayed for wisdom to understand,
(God, how can you let this be?)
In the darkness I walked the lines and prayed
for wisdom to lead them well ...
I never knew if my prayers were heard;
(Can God hear a prayer from Hell?)
I led my men with all that I had
and we fought where we were sent;
They told us where to go and kill
and we went and killed and went
'til I thought, a thousand times at least,
that our last long mile was done ...
But, always the word came down from above ...
"Move on and kill ... move on!"
After the best men have fallen;
After horrors the tongue can't tell;
After the fine young men are dying;
After they followed so well;
What is there left to be after?
After I've led them to Hell?
The Ballad of THE NEW FRONTIER
Once upon a lifetime ago,
in a place no one wanted to go;
on a hillside in Hell ... we were not doing well ...
it's a common old story, I know.
Halfway to the top ... all the way to a stop,
we couldn't fall back or move on ahead;
So many were hurtin' and I was quite certain
if we didn't break out, we'd be dead.
Well, I needed someone for a dangerous run ...
it was a risk that we all understood;
when a friend caught my eye and he wanted to try ...
he could make it ... if anyone could!
He didn't have to be prodded ...
I just looked up and nodded ...
and he charged into Hell on his own!
But ... the mortars fell 'round him 'til one of them found him ...
sometimes I remember Tyrone.
Sometimes, I remember Tyrone;
I wish you could remember him too!
Rock solid and steady he stood always ready
to do the job he had to do.
Sometimes when I freak out and "flash-back" I sneak out
and just take a walk on my own,
and, when I find a quiet place that feels like the right place ...
I stop and remember Tyrone.
Do you remember Tyrone?
You should remember Tyrone!
You remember watts burning and a page we were turning
' til Doctor King fell by the way ...
but, what of a young man who made a brave last stand
on a hill half-a-lifetime away?
You remember Black Power and the day and the hour
that Camelot fell like a stone ...
you remember some hippies and pot-heads and yippies ...
but, do you remember Tyrone?
There was a vision abroad in the land
of a shining New Age right at hand;
Freedom's banner unfurled in a grateful third world
by America's bountiful hand!
"Ask not what your country can do ......
but, step forward now and stand tall
and take up the fight for Freedom and Right!"
And, some of us answered that call.
Politicians schemed it,
but, Tyrone fought for and dreamed it
and, it's a shame that his name is unknown!
Maybe we shouldn't give up 'til we've tried to live up
to some promises we made Tyrone!
Do you remember Tyrone?
We all should remember Tyrone!
Tyrone fought a good fight; he died in a hard fight
but, he fought there of his own free will;
for a land that he loved and a people he trusted ...
(I wonder if he'd trust us still?).
Was the promise we made him
just the grave where we laid him
and some words that we carved on a stone?
Or was there something greater that should have come later?
What do you think that we owe Tyrone?
Do you remember Tyrone?
God knows I remember Tyrone!!
You remember Watts burning
and a page we were turning
'til Doctor King fell by the way ...
But, what of a young man
who made a brave last stand
on a hill half-a-lifetime away?
You remember Black Power
and the day and the hour
that Camelot fell like a stone ...
you remember some hippies,
draft-dodgers and yippies ...
but, do you remember Tyrone?
Aftermath: VALHALLA ... ? Eternity is a circle, turning forever
Around the unmoved Eternal One;
And I came to see eternity
as my men fell, under the gun.
I prayed for them and I cried for them
and they followed wherever I led;
And when one of mine was killed or wounded,
it seemed it was me that bled.
Then I heard a voice that called me aside
just ahead of the rising sun;
A voice from the shadows that called my name
and said, "It's time to go home, son."
"You came to know and you came to see ...
you came ... and you see and know,
God, in his mercy, will set you free;
The time has come to go."
So I gave my knife to my First Team Leader
and my map and compass, as well;
He spoke not a word but he understood ...
I saw in his eyes ... he could tell.
In the mid-morning sun as the shooting began
A mine leaped up from the sod;
It went in the record as a "bouncing Betty"
But, I knew it was the hand of God!
It killed a Corporal and a Platoon Commander
and it blasted me out of that place.
As the chopper lifted, the machine guns hit
and stepped up the battle's pace;
But, we were circling and climbing steady
and I was up and away.
When we cleared the smoke I looked back
once, as three more went down to stay.
Then the battle raged and the mortars fell
and the shooting went on and on
just as it had for eternity ...
except that I was gone.
To a field hospital and the flight back home
I moved in a sleepy haze.
They brought me pills to ease the pain
and the nights ran into the days.
But, it wasn't the pain that tortured my mind
or the weariness in my bone;
It was remembering the men I'd left behind ...
Knowing I'd left them alone.
After trying my best to lead them;
After knowing, "It's blind leading blind;"
After feeling the pain they suffered ...
(After the pain broke my mind);
What is there left to be after ...
(After I've left them behind?)
Then it was the hospital bed and the fog in my head
and the nurses and doctors and pills ...
Until the smoke blacked my mind and,
It all went away and I was back to the paddies and hills.
And I fought and Joe fought and all the dead fought
And we marched and we cursed and we prayed
'til time stopped moving for me and the dead,
like a slow-motion picture replayed.
And, always, we'd fight for those hills every night;
(Wrong hills!)
and we'd burn some village by day.
("We're certain to catch'em next time they move ...
and, Damned if they're not gonna pay!)
Then came the nurse with a pill and a smile
and I could sit and look around for a while.
Others were there who had lost more than I
and I couldn't stand to listen
when they'd scream and they'd cry;
The things those men had suffered
I can't find words to tell ...
They were armless, legless, faceless,
mindless reminders of Hell!
Then the needle again to alter the pain
and I stood, once more, on that blood soaked plain,
and knew I'd slept for an hour or so;
(Such dreams! Such dreams!) But, there is the trail
to the North and it's time to go.
Now, I've picked up my rifle and called, "Move out!"
And, Joe has answered my call with a shout.
The dead will follow, wherever I lead;
(I've asked for God's help but he paid no heed.)
I guess he's still there in his place, on high ...
But, he can't hear me for the smoke in the sky.
Then the needle and the pill and the needle again
And the hill and the village and the darkness and pain.
And Joe and the mortars and the soul-shredding cries
of a red-headed infant with pale blue eyes
And a kid with a carbine cursing or crying
And all the fine young men are dying
And waking to hear them scream and cry
And sleeping to lead them to fight and die ...
... and ...
After living in two worlds;
After knowing their touch and their feel;
After suffering in this hell and that hell;
After needle and shrapnel, (both steel);
What is there left to be after ...
After knowing that neither is real?
Then they let me go and I walked, I know,
By day down the city street;
But, when darkness fell, I stood in Hell
With a freckled-faced corpse at my feet.
There are the hills they told us to take ...
(And, they're as real as this, I know!)
And Joe still plays his old harmonica,
(I heard it a moment ago!)
There is the river and the trail to the North
and the hollow-eyed weary men.
The best will follow wherever I lead ...
(But, they look so wasted and thin!)
There is the village where we trapped the gooks ...
(My God! How that baby cries!)
And there are the mortars and the mud and the mines ...
...and the smoke still blacks my skies ...
TYRONE'S SONG:
(God's Man Tyrone!)
All praise to Heaven! Glory Hallelujah!
My Lord walks beside me
through this dark, dreary night.
All praise to The Father ! And to His Son, Jesus!
Lord, help me keep walking
Down that road toward The Light!
Tyrone ... !
I had a friend ... a fine young man ...
named Tyrone.
I had a friend ... a fine young man ...
good friend!
I had a friend ... a fine young man ...
carried God's Bible to the devils land!
Good Friend!
Close friend!
My friend!
God's man!
Tyrone ...!
His dark eyes danced and his black skin shone ...
Big man!
His dark eyes danced and his black skin shone ...
Fine man!
His dark eyes danced and his black skin shone ...
Faith and courage to the bone!
Big man!
Fine man!
My friend!
God's man!
Tyrone ...!
We fought together , side by side ...
Good friends!
We fought together, side by side ...
Close friends!
We fought together, side by side ...
he moved ahead like the rising tide!
Good friends!
Close friends!
Fine Man!
God's man!
Tyrone ...!
He had a song that he loved to sing ...
One song!
He had a song that he loved to sing ...
Same song!
He had a song that he loved to sing ...
He'd make that Asian jungle ring!
One Song!
His song!
Same song!
He sang ...
All praise to Heaven! Glory Hallelujah!
My Lord walks beside me
Through this dark dreary night.
All praise to The Father! And to His Son, Jesus!
Lord, help me keep walking
Down that road toward the light!
TYRONE ...!
There stood a hill they said we needed ...
Big hill!
There stood a hill they said we needed ...
Bad hill!
There stood a hill they said we needed ...
Big mistake! But, no one heeded!
Big hill!
Bad hill!
Wrong hill!
Last hill!
Tyrone!
He said, "I'll take this hill but I won't take another ...
No, Sarge!
I'll take this hill but I won't take another ...
Old friend!
I'll take this hill, but I won't take another ...
Send my Bible to my mother ...
Please, Sarge!
Old friend!
God Bless!
Good Bye!
Tyrone!
He was just one man, but he fought like three ...
Fought hard!
He was just one man, but he fought like three ...
Stood tall!
He was just one man, but he fought like three ...
'til he took a round that was meant for me!
Oh God!
Not him!
Not now!
Please God! !
Tyrone!
I won't forget how he fought and died ...
Fought hard!
I won't forget how he fought and died ...
Died hard!
I won't forget how he fought and died ...
Or how I cursed and how I cried!
So hard!
Old friend!
Good friend!
God's man!
Tyrone ...!
He sang of Heaven, but he died in Hell ...
Died hard!
He sang of Heaven, but he died in Hell ...
So hard!
He sang of Heaven, but he died in Hell ...
And my heart died with him when he fell!
So hard!
So soon!
So soon!
God's man!
Tyrone ...!
That was long ago and far away ...
So far!
That was long ago and far away ...
So long!
That was long ago and far away ...
But, I heard him singing, just today!
One song!
His song!
Same song!
He sang ...
All praise to Heaven! Glory Hallelujah!
My Lord walks beside me
Through this dark, dreary night .
All praise to The Father! And to His Son, Jesus!
Lord, help me keep walking
Down that road toward the light!
TYRONE...!
Now, I've got a friend ... one real true friend ...
Named Jesus!
Now, I've got a friend ... one real true friend ...
God's son!
Now I've got a friend ... one real true friend ...
He'll walk with me to the end!
Jesus!
God's Son!
My friend!
God's man!
Tyrone ...!
Sometimes I'm afraid I'll lose my will ...
I'm tired!
Sometimes I'm afraid I'll lose my will ...
So tired!
Sometimes I'm afraid I'll lose my will ...
But, with my friends, I'll take that hill!
Once more!
Old friends!
Good friends!
Jesus !!!
Tyrone ...!
... all praise to heaven ... glory hallelujah ...
Aftermath: " THE ANSWER"
(For Marjorie who waited for it.)
If a man had life to live over again ...
So often it's put that way;
If a man had life to live over again ...
But, couldn't change a single day;
Would a man be willing to walk again,
where he walked so long before?
Would he feel the pain, again and again,
and live it all over, once more?
...If I had life to live over again
and they told me straight and true
that I couldn't change it and they made it plain ...
if they asked what I wanted to do ...
Would I go again to that soggy plain
where death reigned night and day?
If I had to just die ... or go back and try;
If they asked me, what would I say?
Would it be worthwhile to fight that mile
to take the wrong hill again?
To see the suffering, the fire and the fear,
and the smoke and the death and the pain?
After the places I've been;
After the things I've done;
After pale death in the dawn-light;
After the knife and the gun;
Now that I've considered the question ...
Now that I've worried it through ...
Now that the fight is over,
... I'd say yes, and I'd do it too!
Because, after it all was over ...
After all ... there was you.
