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Tuesday, August 14, 2007


I found this on the forums at VA Joe & asked the author if I could share it it is with permission from Shelly.

"My son is presently stationed at twentynine Palms Ca. He has served one tour of duty in Iraq last year and is preparing to deploy again very soon. Just a couple weeks ago I was downtown and ran into some demonstrators on a street corner, exercising their right to free speech which my son (and others like him for all the years our nation has exsisted) has risked their lives to protect. I was appalled to hear much of the same old Viet Naam rhetoric being spewed over what they termed "Bush's War." After a lengthy discussion with them, I went home and penned this poem in support of all our brave soldiers. Hope it helps someone..."


He grew up bronzed and windblown, in the dry Dakota earth,
took great pride in his family and the country of his birth;
cut his teeth on a Red Rider at the age of eight or nine,
ran out of paper targets and shot the clothespins off the line.
Girls? Well, they came in second next to stalking wild game,
his taxidermied behemoth hangs upon his wall of fame.
He had trouble passing English getting by with D’s and C’s
Graduated goal in mind the Few, the Proud, Marines!
Few it seemed, understood his goal; some thought him quite insane,
but 9/ll left him dreamin of “taggin’" Bin Laden in the brain.
He came on out of boot camp top marksman of his platoon,
was sure his time to claim his fame was coming very soon.
He’s an All-American man-boy and he serves his country proud,
loves his family deeply, seeks to serve his risen God.
He’s an All-American man-boy and he serves his country proud,
Honor, courage, commitment, Semper Fi and a big Oo-rah

Now he’s fighting in a different war, one you say just should not be,
fighting for a land not his, to keep her people free;
free from genocide dished out by madmen quite insane,
he’s heard her children crying, and he’s felt their bitter pain.
Still, you stand there shouting slogans, which we’ve all heard before,
while holding up your picket signs denouncing “Bush’s war" ;
complaining ‘bout tax dollars spent to “support the war machine"
as young men fall in desert sand, vests threadbare and lean.
I can tell you that my fear for him, each day that he is gone,
is mirrored by my fear for him when he at last comes home
to see you standing on the corner of his home town street
and with your home made picket sign you wave at him and greet
this All-American man-boy who has served his country proud,
who has loved his family deeply, sought to serve his risen God.
This All-American man-boy who has served this country proud
with honor, courage, commitment, Semper Fi and a big OO-rah!

I remember once not long ago when a war in another land
found our people on street corners, picket signs in hand,
screaming vile slogans, at our man-boys as they returned
greeting them in catchy phrases, "baby killer" and “murderer" .
Has it really been so long ago? Don’t we remember what we learned,
when our young men bruised and battered from Vietnam returned;
to find their country, shouting insults, waving signs and hurling spittle
Shame on us! Oh shame on us for having learned so very little!
I don’t discount your right to voice the opinion of your heart,
but I think before you speak those words, before your marching starts,
you should choose your vocab wisely, consider those now serving there
to avoid once more those past mistakes and then offer up a prayer,
for the All-American man-boys as they serve their country proud,
and for the families that love them, please, beseech Almighty God,to give safe passage for our man-boys as another’s land they trodin honor, courage, and commitment, Semper Fi and a big OO-RAH!

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