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Rainman's Song
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Never get out of the boat.
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US Army - They Stand In Harms Way
..Lt Jackette Gifford (AN)...SFC Amy Masek...
Major Dan Dashara.. SSG Bill Brunett... Spc Earl Sowich..Spc R. Abby..
LTC Joney Marks,Maj Georgia Elbertson..
SFC Gene DeFondi..,Maj Joe Carrie ,SSg Rabino
Major Rose Mary Forsti (AN)
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RECON
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I first met him in DC , a tall man with premature gray locks and a friendly smile . His cap was pushed back in an open disarming manner,an unspoken welcome. He was the kind of person that you knew you would soon be sharing a beer with.
He was some sort of executive , now, but then , a long time ago, he was "Recon" . He didn't talk much about it, but the ribbons he wore on his old camo jacket,spoke for him.
After the beer had produced that familiar soft cloud for which it was intended, there would be glimpses of the past found somewhere in his smooth southern drawl.
He was cold when he talked about it and in his eyes could be found the deep green jungle that slowly engulfed him and the civilized man he had become.
He keeps his memories in a shoe box somewhere in his cluttered garage. The memories won't stay squirreled away in their nice neat package. They find their way into his dreams and burst, unannounced, into his corporate world where they stand naked and exposed. His two martini lunch is too often prolonged in order to quench the demons that will not be satiated.
On his face is the mark of a slim fearful bayonet that pierced his cheek in a place that now lies dim and gray in memory. The mark ,almost unnoticed,over shadows the assorted bits of color that cascade down his chest, a flesh and blood medal that no military committee could have ever bestowed or can ever take
away.
There are flashes of pride mixed with waves of guilt in his gray eyes. He finds comfort , if there can be any comfort for him, in the solace of those that walked his walk. It lasts only a moment and he once again finds himself,one man, single file , on a dark jungle trail, alone and yet with others.
He is Recon
For Gorden Boswell
Welcome Home |
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Watch Fires
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Watch Fires '99
I got home around 2100 and had a quick bite to eat. I had my wife go out and buy me a small plastic toy tug boat today. I lifted the upper part off and carefully placed a small candle in the hull.
I went across the road to my dock, lit up my cigar and then the candle. I broke out a little bottle of scotch I had left over from my flight back from Firebase Canada in Vancouver last summer, took a sip and poured some into the hull. Gently, I cast off the tiny boat and watched it slowly drift away towards the middle of our lake.
It's a black night out here in N.E. Pa. but a very calm one with a slight autumn chill in the air. As I looked up at the sky I thought to myself; there has
to be at least 55,000 + stars out tonight.... one for each of our lost Brothers. As
they twinkled I'd like to think it was them acknowledging my presence. I sat there for about twenty minutes or so smoking my cigar while sipping the remainder of the bottle and had a nice talk with them.
I said hello to Marty, who died in my arms. I told Mikey that he should
have stayed home and married Theresa. I told Huey that, although we grew up a block apart and I didn't know him all that well, thanks for the sacrifice he made. I also thanked Sgt. Starbuck for those words of encouragement he gave me on Parris Island the night before he left for his second tour in 'Nam... the one that he never returned from. Lastly... I told Bruce Kane, whose MIA bracelet has resided in my shadow box for more years then I can remember, that even though I never got to meet him, he will always be remembered.
My eyes are starting to fail me and as the flicker of the candle grew dim off in the distance I finished my cigar, drained the bottle and told them I'd be back again next year.
God Bless Them All.
Semper Fidelis...
Sal
Vietnam 12/66-1/68
Ser. Co. (Disbo) 1st Mar. Div.
Da Nang and Chu Lai
TAD 7th Comm. Bn (Attached)
H&S Co.1/5 Hill-63 at Tam Ky
HQ Co.5th Mar.Reg. at Hoi An
"Keep the fires burning there's one patrol still out."
Martin and Holliday
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| BOOMER
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| Erikson was remiss in limiting the growing phases that we all pass through. Being fifty something , I can now see another turn in the wheel. Maybe it's the end but the end of what ? Certainly my mortality has become more real to me in the past few years. It impales itself upon my daily existence at the most inopportune times , lending an overcast to what should have been a sunny day. But maybe it is only the end of a phase. If so , then where is the new beginning ? New; is there anything new ? After raising a family, maneuvering through two long careers and surviving a war, is there more ? When I was in my teens , I questioned the meaning of life as well as my own existence. Why now do these questions present themselves anew when I am less prepared then ever ? Then, there was more to learn and see. Hope abounded that the answers were within my understanding, if not yet understood. This new riddle is more hopeless then hopeful. Is there an answer to any of these questions and if there is , who would care ? I find the past to be a comfort for the present. It really has been quit a ride. There are those like myself who will half listen or at least politely wait their turn to ruminate. It is within this group of x-patriots that I find solace.However I know that the past will gradually consume the present and finally merge with the future.I see my future in old men's eyes and wonder which aged character I will slowly imitate , bent and infirm or pudgy and puffed out ? Life is like nothing , it can not be a metaphor of itself. Life is life , it is not like anything else. It galls me when I read an author who is attempting to describe the sun as likened to a yellow peach or the rising of a ripe orange. Is this betrayal of nature written for the blind or do they suppose their
readers intellect to be severely impoverished ? What arrogance it is to try to redefine the brilliance of the universe and so it is with life, my life. Who do I think I am to redefine the indefinable. Isn't that the answer in a nutshell ? The goal of my journey has been long forgotten , if there was ever one to begin with, but then again maybe the journey itself is the goal. If I am lucky there may be more road to examine before the final goal has been realized. There have been many goals over the years and many have
been left at the wayside , soon forgotten. A few may even have made a difference to someone , somewhere .
Things may not have changed that much after all. That youthful search for the holy grail goes on in a somewhat jaded fashion but now it's not the grail that's important it's
the search. To have a purpose is the only remedy , any purpose. It's what we all search for, without one, there can be no meaningful life. What that purpose is may not be clear, nor need it be, but there must be some inner assurance within you that One exists. For me that One is God.
RtM
for Gunny Lindstrom
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Doc Rainman 2/26 5th Mar. Div.
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