46 came and went

With a rumor of unity without being sent.

A bullet to his brain, that no one would claim

Our first loss with his dream

Of uniting the two without a seine

54 our second chance of ending the war

Was lost with Ike and his lack of spike.

To fix it all he set our course

And sent advisors to pull the strings

Of a puppet government plagued of bad things

John inherited the cue of condemn

And was shot before he could make amends

Johnson took over in ablaze

Ere John's body was laid to rest

He would fight the war with our best

He and Mac were quite the team

Making it impossible to achieve our dream

The Cong were there with violence in heir

Breaking all the rules that seemed fair

Bombing the north in rolling thunder

At most targets that were a blunder

Many took off, but fewer landed

Leaving their crews completely stranded.

Escalation's, with promises of end

Westmoreland needed more to make amends.

Big business scrambled for a war

Kickbacks and pay offs lead the race

With our leaders keeping the pace

Returning home after living like rats

Seeing death and feeling trapped

The protesters were there to give us their raft

Peace and love was the name of the game

So for us we needed tamed

Sister Jane went up north to sit on a gun

Smiling and waving at the folks back home

She made it clear that she was having fun

The evening news got the scoop

Showing all as they ate their soup

All that mattered was the count

So they said we lead by some amount

Statistics showed that more died

While at home taking a ride.

The implication was made clear

That the real danger was in the rear

When they bombed the north to save our face

Few were released with more of no trace

Now that's over or so they say

For the past 30 years I laid and prayed

Sleepless nights and, attempts of suicide

To find my peace, from a war that has no end

The lesson learned is there is no return.

By: Gordon Thacker II

Incoming shakes the soul

the only relief is to dig a hole

Filling sand bags to shelter their raft

Packing the timbers was our craft

Digging the hole so deep that hell is up

Going out in the rain

Filled with the fear of the pain

Metal flies and the next is yours

Ere you go it is your tour

Days pass with in slow remorse

Nights come with the same course

Men shout to save their pain

Others pass to leave their remain

God save me from this war

God help me find the brashness>/P>

To do my job with all rashness

So much is lost with no procure

Too many suffer without a cure

The distant tubes protrude

Three seconds till it intrudes

Mothers cry with at their sons beckon

Pieces of parts of a friend

Please god give us the end

I can take no more of this rain

Gordon Thacker

May 1998

Bruce

That day he was no more

To die in the mud on the hill of fear

He passed his way without a tear

Leaving behind in his rites

A mother without a sight

Ruth felt the loss deep within

Of Her son bruce with no sin

She wrote asked what his task

She wanted to know what came down

The letter they sent was just a form

It did not explain how he was torn

I sat in my hole trying to write

What could I say to ease her spite

Her loss was his fait

Leaving no more than added freight>/P>

Filled with guilt of my own gain

Bruce was dead and laid in the rain

Twenty five years came and went

Without a letter ever sent

Looking in the book of death

I found his name with an address

Calling her could waken the anguish

But I needed to reduce our languish

No matter to whom it would provoke

I need to speak before I choked

Her words to me made no sense

As I hung on the line so very tense

Asking her what she meant

She asked of the day I chose for repent

The tears of the years started to flow

My request of forgiveness came so slow

Her response was not of torment

But more her state of astonishment

Then she asked if I knew, Why that day was so few

My response was unclear as to why it was dear>P>

Your call I mean to say

Bruce was born on this day

May Bruce Allen for ever find his piece

I will never forget

His extreme sacrifice without emotion

Bruce your honor is great

May god's blessing always be your fait

Please forgive me for taking so long

To find the words that needed told

Your memory lives forever in my heart

By: gordon thacker

May 1998

The Ride

Early morning has come and the time is now

Kicking the engine through to ready it for life anew

Grasping the clutch I squeeze it tight kicking into gear to give me

flight

Juicing the throttle I ease my grip the time is now for the trip

Hearing the roar of the motor strong I left for a trip so very long

Farther I ride the cold cuts deep inside

Praying for weather warm, I'm met with cold in a swarm

Rain then snow cover my sight I dare not ease in my flight

Miles come and white line pass I take a sip from my flask

Stopping only when too worn and continue in the morn

Night is long without relief rest is short and incomplete

Rising up renewing my plight I kick it over with all my might

To the road again without a grin I ride into the chilly wind

Alone the ride searching inside the thoughts of him are within

The Capital in sight one leg of plight

So many names that gave their all were etched deep on the Wall>/P>

Feelings of hate as I stood agape with tears of fears from all the years>/P>

Faceless names of warriors of fame I stared in remorse for a country of

shame

It seemed to me another war fought for those that cared no more

They gave it all for a Wall nothing more than for the score

Heading north another leg I go to met a mothers beg>/P>

Cold and worn I arrived before the morn

Met by a woman no different from my mom I feel her grief and relief

What a wonder she is and will always be as she gave her son for you and

me

She took me in and warmed my sole and asked of nothing for a toll

His brother was there to fill me in of all the places Bruce had played

and his friends

He took me to the stone that marked the spot of a boy that laid in his

plot

A boy that died as a man he grew too old in the cold

Gordon Thacker

May 1998