We fought to live and learned to die

We fought to live and learned to die

In my darkest days in Vietnam, on those fields of blood and strife,
I fought to live and learned to die, and gleaned new views on life.

To watch in pain and agony, a friend who died in vain,
the flesh and blood and dreams he had, a note in life’s refrain.

With roaring ears and tearful eyes, I watched as warriors fled,
into the jaws of hell and back, on a field of rotting dead.

The ugly sounds and awful smells, the terrible weight of fear,
our hopes were gone and minds were numb, and death was always near.

Across the fields and up the hill, knowing not if we had won,
and the things we did in ignorant pride, can never be undone.

In putrid slime and driving rain, with bold and daring pride,
we fought and bled and held our friends, as many of them died.

For lonely nights and burning days, through jungles filled with slime,
we slogged and walked and crawled and jumped, and keeping track of time.

The freedom bird was what we called, that contrail in the sky,
our ticket home to end our fear, and say to Nam good bye.

Some say it’s called the empty stare, others the face of fear,
for those who fought in Vietnam, the meaning is quite clear.

Our hopes were raped and dreams destroyed, our youth was split asunder,
into that valley of sudden death, our memories often wander.

For many nearing our final end, these thoughts are crystal clear,
for those we lost in Vietnam, we hold their memory dear.

To those who serve our land today, with faith and selfless pride,
All of us who fought before, are fighting at your side.