Gordon W. Belling
THE PLIGHT OF THE VIETNAM VET
You’re going to war he heard the pollies shout,
but the lad knew nought of what it was about.
Go fight for your country they had all decreed,
two years of your time is all the time we need.
Now son, pack your bags it’s time to make new friends,
you will be a hero, glory never ends.
You are now at war; show us how you can fight.
You will show a brave face and not a face of fright.
Though, lots of your mates have been taken by a mine,
you have to keep calm then you should do just fine.
You’ve survived a mine, you must have lots of luck.
Yes, lucky he was, it never really struck.
Go and pack your bags, for you are heading home,
go and wash your face and show your hair a comb.
You are through your time and finished with the war.
Time for your old life, to find out, what’s in store
and pick up those shoulders, which your burdens lay,
we will drop you off and let you find your way.
Welcome home dear friend, it’s good to see you mate.
But how he felt with no one to relate!
He was promised glory; that he’ll never find.
His stories to tell have been always declined.
Rows of empty glasses sit along the bar,
for his time at war has left an empty scar.
The vet knew of spite, there were no brassy bands,
and it was so hard to hide the trembling hands.
He can hear a noise constantly from the ear,
and he will quite often shed a private tear.
He is often woken by nightmares at night,
and if left alone, goes running home in fright.
The lad touched so closely to deaths darkened door.
Lucky many times, though he’d not know for sure.
He’s not just a lad who made it safely back;
His mind is prepared and waits for that attack.
He has all his scars and all those dreaded fears,
and can’t forget his fallen mates, after all these years.
©Copyright September 2007 by Gordon W. Belling