| Subject: I Remember It Well |
Author:
Wayne Adams
|
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Date Posted: 16:05:01 11/11/01 Sun
Author Host/IP: netcache-1115.public.svc.webtv.net/209.240.222.132
Today is Veteran's Day. The poem I am presenting is the result of conversations with World War II'
veterans in the county I live in.
Sitting here in my comfort
Waiting for the six o'clock news
My mind floats back to another time
That I remember too well.
A time when Freedom was threatened.
In a distant land called Europe
That had once been unreal
A fixture on a map
I joined with southerners
Northerners, ranchers out west.
I fought side by side
With the rich, the poor, the city, the country.
I remember it well.
The bullets screaming, seeming to call my name.
The artillery shells exploding,
Telling me death was the Master.
The screamed orders.
The devotion to duty
Was mixed with the smoke and the nois.
I remember it well.
I was there.
For some, what I did
Is but a few pages in a book.
A paragraph here.
A sentence there.
The Generals recieved their medals and their handshakes.
But, I was there.
I remember it well.
I remember the numbing cold weather
That chilled me to my soul.
I remember the mud
That swallowed trucks
As if it were a terrible monster
That needed metal for nourishment.
I remember it well.
I remember friends.
Men who were as frightened as me.
Men who left homes and love.
Men who would remain in Europe
Never to return home.
They contributed.
Men who would return home.
Men who fought the battles.
I remember it well.
Now I am old
With graying hair
And a gait that is not steady.
I remember.
World War II.
With names of places that are branded into my heart.
Normandy, Utah Beach, Bastogne, The Bulge, Aachen.
Then finally, a place that was the fortress of the beast, Berlin.
I remember.
I remember it well.
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