Wednesday, August 17, 2005

THE HEROES CAME HOME

Johnny came home and Jerry came home and Tommy came home but will never be the same. Johnny limped home on a crutch, Jerry marched home on a cane. Tommy looks fine but he's incurably insane. All three remain luckier than those who were slain. Or are they?

Bobbie returned with medals on his chest but can't pin them on. Both arms are gone and he can't remember why he won. Was it the time he faced unafraid an enemy brigade and killed a few and they killed some too and when it was through there was nothing to do but cry for the dead and mourn for the few they knew and wished the fighting was through.

The general flew down from his hometown and passed medals around like they were candy. How grand he looked, all spitpolish and clean and strangely obscene with liquor on his breath rewarding those who faced death to turn the stalemate war around. Now the hero general could call the Pentagon and say "I and my boys have won a significant victory today for all humanity."

That night it was Three Cheers for Victory and free beer for all as the blood dried up and sank in foreign soil.

Like thousands of others, all brothers in war, they are now far removed from the killing. The statistics lists GIs who took risks and were cited posthumously for bravery, But they'll soon be forgotten in this rotten war where death's a waste and appalling. And the killing goes on as the man in the White House, unwilling to call it quits, keeps stalling.

Week in, week out enough lives are snuffed out to fill a mall town population. And still it goes on as our Commander in Chief, beyond all belief, continues his well earned vacation.

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