Gary Jacobson


Father’s Day in a Foxhole
Came to those dealing with war’s bloody rigmarole
Father’s so far from home. Too far from home
Away from sons and daughters
Bivouacking with brothers
Brother’s hoping someday to be fathers
If the fates will another day let them live
Hoping they do not life here have to give
Lost in a dinky dau world of anger
Where ill willed hatred’s march fraught with danger.

Soldier’s cannot think too much of home, not now
With rancor festering in times dinky dau
You can’t afford to think the thought
The evil devil of war wrought
Cause “It don’t mean nuthin’”
Where you’ve been. What you’ve seen of sin
Family brings only a glimmer of a smile
To a grunt air-mobile
With too many fears on his mind
Evading thoughts that killing bind.

Shuffle fatherhood thoughts deeper in his backpack
With other thoughts of death and dying rack
Brothers who died in virulent attack.
Tripped booby traps or bought the bullet. Not now!
Not where even heroes cow
Where sweat runs down a furrowed brow
Where dusky demons preoccupied with your dying prowl
While the winds of war yet bellow
Where you see more than you can bear to see
Not now! Not this sad-sack warrior draftee…

Father’s Day in the Nam is but a passing thought
One which cannot linger a lot
Not while I’m your Uncle Sam’s employee
‘Cause you have to be alert, tawny marauders to see
You can’t think of a wife and children, don’t you agree
Till back in the world as a dischargee?
Then my mind will try to escape
The haunting demon’s eradicate
To find love again with my family to share
To find peace, far from the sound of guns I bear.