Terry D. Sutherland


They started out
They were three
Young boys of eleven
Whose minds were free
Adventures in every tree
They found
And in every smell and sound
Rehearsed games turned out
Practice for real life
There was no doubt
They were three
The Triple scouts
Blood brothers forever be
The years passed
For the brothers three
Now passions no longer play
Young loves had come and gone
Now soldiers they would be
Steven died first
As he quenched his thirst
A mine took him away
Robert fell in a Huey bird
As the battle
Raged that day
Joe lay on the jungle floor
As the chaplain
Paved the way
And opened the door
Through hell
To a better place
The three are now
Not a single one
There stories will never be
They gave their all
For a battle not won
For a dream
That was not their own

This poem inspired the response, “Brothers Three” ~ ©Copyright June 1, 2007 by
Thurman P. Woodfork