If you are able,

save them a place

inside of you
and save one backward glance
when you are leaving
for the places they can
no longer go.
Be not ashamed to say
you loved them,
though you may
or may not have always.
Take what they have left
and what they have taught you
with their dying
and keep it with your own.
And in that time
when men decide and feel safe
to call the war insane,
take one moment to embrace
those gentle heroes
you left behind.

Major Michael Davis O'Donnell

1 January 1970
Dak To, Vietnam

I'm asking You God, to give me what You have left.

Give me those things which others never ask of You.
I don't ask You for rest, or tranquility.
Not that of the spirit, the body, or the mind.
I don't ask You for wealth, or success, or even health.
All those things are asked of You so much Lord,
that you can't have any left to give.
Give me instead Lord what You have left.
Give me what others don't want.
I want uncertainty and doubt.
I want torment and battle.
And I ask that You give them to me now and forever Lord,
so I can be sure to always have them,
because I won't always have the strength to ask again.
But give me also the courage, the energy,
and the spirit to face them.

I ask You these things Lord,

because I can't ask them of myself.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

In a foreign field he laid

lonely soldier unknown grave
on his dying words he prays
tell the world of Paschendale

Relive all that he's been through

last communion of his soul
rust your bullets with his tears
let me tell you 'bout his years

Laying low in a blood filled trench

killing time 'til my very own death
on my face I can feel the fallin' rain
never see my friends again
in the smoke in the mud and lead
the smell of fear and the feeling of dread
soon be time to go over the wall
rapid fire and the end of us all

Whistles, shouts and more gun-fire

lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
be reunited with my dead friends soon
many soldiers eighteen years
drowned in mud, no more tears
surely a war no one can win
killing time about to begin

Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again

Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again

The bodies of ours and our foes

the sea of death it overflows
in no-man's land God only knows
into jaws of death we go!

Crucified as if on a cross
allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
such before has never been seen
swear I heard the angels cry
pray to God no more may die
so that people know the truth
tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
every man does play his part
terror of the men we kill
the human heart is hungry still

I stand my ground for the very last time

gun is ready as I stand in line
nervous wait for the whistle to blow
rush of blood and over we go...

Blood is falling like the rain

its crimson cloak unveils again
the sound of guns can't hide their shame
and so we die in Paschendale

Dodging shrapnel and barbed wire

running straight at canon fire
running blind as I hold my breath
say a prayer symphony of death
as we charge the enemy lines
a burst of fire and we go down
I choke I cry but no one hears
feel the blood go down my throat

See my spirit on the wind

'cross the lines beyond the hill
friend and foe will meet again
those who died at Paschendale

In the gloom the gathering storm abates

In the ship gimlet eyes await
The call to arms to hammerat the gates
To blow them wide throw evil to its fate

All summers long the vdrills to build the machine

To turn men from flesh and blood to steel
From paper soldiers to bodies on the beach
From summer sands to armageddon's reach

Overload, your master not your god

The enemy coast dawning grey with scud
These wretched souls puking, shaking fear
To take a bullet for those who sent them here

The world's alight, the cliffs erupt in flame

No escape, remorseless sharpnel rains
Drowning men no chance for a warrior's fate
A chocking death enter hell's gates

Sliding we go, only fear on our side

To the edge of the wire,
and we rush with the tide
Oh the water is red,
with the blood of the dead
But I'm still alive, pray to God I survive

How long on this longest day

'Til we finally make it through
How long on this longest day
'Til we finally make it through

The rising dead, faces bloated torn

They are relieved, the living wait their turn
Your number's up, the bullets got your name
You still go on, to the hell and back again

Valhalla waits, valkyries rise and fall

The warrior tombs, lie open for us all
A ghostly hand reaches through the veil
Blood and sand, we will prevail

Sliding we go, only fear on our side

To the edge of the wire,
and we rush with the tide
Oh the water is red,
with the blood of the dead
But I'm still alive, pray to God I survive

How long on this longest day

'Til we finally make it through
How long on this longest day
'Til we finally make it through

>>
Papulu !dCodef2d72 09/13/11(Tue)02:00 No.9728580
So I fall, lead in my chest.
Meeting my maker, so I may rest.
I pray that I did not fail.
For I can't stand feeling pale.
Combat brought out the best in me.
It made me all I could be.
I sat and shared my bread.
With the people that once wished me dead.
I gave children the last of my water.
Because I might have killed their father.
But as I am falling down.
I can't help but frown.
My body will be shipped to my family.
So that they can grieve for me, sadly.
Remember what I have done.
Because I am now gone.