THIS IS A PAGE OF POEMS FROM VETERANS & FORMER SERVICE MEN & WOMEN.

All the poems on this page were either sent to the Webmaster or permission was sought to use on this page, so that means they are all Copyright to the author's, unless the poem is marked ~Author Unknown~.

If a poem is of interest I would expect other webmaster's to have the courtesy to ask me if they can use any poems from this site. If poems are found on other websites and permission has not been sought, legal action will be taken by both the author and webmaster.

The Final Inspection

The soldier stood and faced his God,
Which must always come to pass,
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?"

The soldier squared his shoulders,
and said: "No, Lord, I guess I ain't,
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.

I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear,
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I wept unmanly tears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord,
(It needn't be real grand,
I've never expected, or had too much),
But if you don't, I'll understand."

There was a silence around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod,
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well,
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."

~Author Unknown~  

CAVALRY MEN VIET NAM

Remember the Cavalry men standing tall

It was the call to arms that awaited them all

Fine young men, Aussie�s all

With a love of their flag, country and Corp

Black Berets always worn

Silver buttons did adorn

Their noble steeds were not of flesh

But of castings made to mesh

With tracks instead of hoofs these carriers could run

Crews at one with an APC and its guns

Their hands were firm and hearts true

The Cavalry men that rode within

Part of the legend, Scorpions that sting

The enemy new the apocalypse would fall

Cavalry men were ready when an enemy�s bugle called

Fear controlled by a job to be done

One with their mates, all in for one

Memories have faded with time gone by

Never let the truth be questioned or tried

Young men too brave to worry that they could fall

Sadly, some courageously, gave it all.

Mothers know that their fallen sons past every test

Their boys rode with courage and a heart full of zest

History must show that these were not boys

But Anzac men, best of the best

When the sun sets and the day comes to rest

Old Cavalry men will remember when they served with the best

And of friends and foe brave souls all

They will never forget mates at rest

But the Cavalry man no matter the age

Will always remember in awe, when he hears that familiar roar

Of his beast and its heart of steel and strength in its very core 

And an old mans love still rides within, as it always will be one with him

So let it be known far and wide

That with pride and unshameful heart

The Cavalry man, will never forget his part

�     William S Bone    26 March 2008

"MY PLACE" �

I have a special place I go
Whenever I feel all alone
A very special place
That I can call my own

IT stops me feeling lonely
Away from the fear and dread
A place that makes me feel in control
If only in my head

THIS place is a very big rock
At least in my mind
Where I can go and be with friends
That I knew once upon a time

SOME times when I am in there
The door will stay ajar
Just enough to still feel safe
And insulated from the world afar

AT times people think I�m crazy
When they look upon my face
But then they just assume
That I�m in my own space

TO let them in would be tragic
For they couldn�t understand
The Demons that I am fighting still
From long ago in a far off land

THE WAR that we were fighting
That left so many DEAD
Still rages deep inside me
Its really messed up my head

I hope that the WAR I am fighting
Will one day come to an end
And I can just live in PEACE
With the understanding of when

I meet up with fellow WARRIORS
Beyond the Pearly Gates
And once again be where I belong
Surrounded by my MATES


Copyright � 2008. Phil Kadow.

"THE IMAGE" �

I have an image in my memory
That hasn�t dimmed through out the years
It�s with me when I�m happy
And when I�m filled with tears

IT�S a moment running in slow motion
With each part a joining link
That I could clearly remember
From my days before the WAR

THE explosive was called Chaicom
With its very distinctive signature
Of black smoke and sweet aroma
That stood out on that fateful day

THAT day was Easter Monday
The 23rd of March 1970
When I heard the bang, saw the smoke
Then smelled the unmistakable aroma

THE engine was still idling in gear
Whilst my car lay there on its side
And amongst the instant confusion
I thought some one had surely died

IT wasn�t until later
Once the Dust-off had touch down
That I learned of my mates
They had been strewn across the ground

OUR injuries were all minor
We were lucky if the truth be known
Because during the whole situation
We were never left alone


WHEN I came back to the section
On Easter Sunday morn
We all carried on as usual
For the job was still to be done


I don�t remember saying Thank You
To my mates after that fateful day
For they went about their business
As we had the week before

NOW I would like to thank them
From the bottom of my heart
For with out their courage and mate ship
I wouldn�t be here for this poem to start

Copyright � 2008 Phil Kadow.


 

Was the character of my valour less intense than those at BEERSHEBA ?
Was the pain of my wounds any less Severe than those at GALLIPOLI?
And, was my loneliness any less sorrowful Than those at TOBRUK?
Then why am I forgotten amongst those Remembered as �heroes�?�

George L Skypeck �

BALLANTYNE�S BULLET  �

In a Centurion romping along
She may be old but she�s going strong
I�m enjoying the scenery, chasing the Cong
A scream from the Commander
What�s this I hear???
Strike me pink
We�ve been shot in the rear.
The petrol went up with a terrible
WHOOSH
The gunner climbed out over the
Commander�s Moosh
We scurried for cover
And cringed in fear
Centurions don�t like
Being shot in the rear.
Old Gus had been an R P
A father figure to me
Then some silly bastard
Put him in charge of an APC
No-one had told him, I�m quite sincere
That a fifty will put a hole
In a Centurion�s rear.
The hit was put down to a R.P.G.
But no-one disputed it came from
OLD G.B.
I hope now when he�s driving around
In his old rocket
A copper comes along and kicks him
Right in the sprocket.

�JOHNNO� 31A �

MATESHIP  �

Did you ever have a good mate, one who was true?
Yes, I guess you did, and I had one too.
Always together, we were closer than brothers,
Real good mates, we were attuned to each other.

Down on your luck, he'd share his last quid.
No questions asked, it was just what he did.
In troubles and triumphs, he'd be by my side,
Our mateship was something in which he took pride.

Out in the scrub, no chance of resupply,
So on your mate, you had to rely.
Without hesitation he'd share his last smoke,
Not even a quibble, he was that sort of bloke.

I remember the time in the bush, I got real sick,
But I knew that my mate, by me would stick.
The weather closed in, no dustoff in sight,
He tended my needs through the long dark night.

He did his gun picquet then did mine too.
When morning's light came he made me a brew.
Then he cleaned up our site without further ado,
Just said, "Take it easy mate, I'll see us through."

One day we were parted, sent different ways,
Not of our choosing, just the game fate often plays.
Typical of the Army, it did this sort of thing,
Never thinking of the hardship or sorrow it can bring.

I saw him much later, but the years had left their mark.
It seemed to me, he was stumbling in the dark.
I reached out to him to help pull him through,,
He just smiled, said "It's ok mate, you've had your hell too."

He drank his beer and talked about fate.
I wanted to help him 'cos he was my mate.
I guess life got too much, he gave up the race.
Disappeared one day, not leaving a trace.

To this day I miss him, my best mate,
And sometimes I curse this thing called fate.
It brought us together, then pulled us apart,
And the sorrow I feel, still drags at my heart.

Where is he now I often wonder,
Somewhere in this big land down under.
Wherever you are mate wherever you roam,
As long as I live you've still got a home.

Dedicated to mateship and all those
who shared it with me, especially Mick.

Copyright � 6 July 1998 Lee O'Neill  

THE WALL AROUND US �

We were young and carefree way back then,
For excitement and adventure we had a great yen.

Ready to answer our country's call,
For freedom's sake we would give our all.

Fighting 'gainst tyranny in any shape or form,
The call to arms, was for us the norm.

We upheld the tradition of our forefathers so proud,
But when we returned, we were shunned by the crowd.
For us there was no welcome home.

We were shut out and left all alone.
Our country abandoned us and let us fall.

So around us we built a bloody great wall.
Some made of stone, some made of steel.

Athough you can't see them, to us they're quite real.
We thought the enemy was in a faraway place,

A soldier like us, one we could face.
But when we came home to familiar ground,

We found the real foe was all around.
The horrors we went through, we could never share,

Nobody would listen, they just didn't care.
So we shut down our feelings and built a great wall,

To hide our emotions and fears from all.
Yes we built a great wall all around us,
To keep back the foe who surround us.

They forgot it was they who sent us, but we never will.
So we built a wall around us and for many it remains there still.

 Copyright � 25th June 1998 Lee O'Neill

Waiting �

He went off to war and left you waiting here,
With the heartaches, the worries, the pain and the fear.

Not knowing if you would ever see him again,
You stood bravely as he boarded his plane.

You held him close as you said your goodbyes,
Then averted your face to hide the pain in your eyes.

You returned back home with heart of lead.
Not wanting to face that cold empty bed,
Where, in his arms you used to sleep.

Then you broke down and began to weep.
You anxiously waited for the postman to come,
With that letter from your dearest loved one.

Waiting each day, slowly going insane,
Wanting his arms to hold you again.

All through that wait, you endured the pain,
Hoping 'gainst hope that it wasn't in vain.

Finally he returns and is safe at home,
Promising you never more will he roam.

Back in your arms and safe at last,
That awful waiting is now in the past.

Now the waiting is over but the memories remain,
And every so often they haunt you again.

All you who waited, stand tall, walk proud,
You too are heroes, standing out from the crowd.

You stayed faithful, loyal and true,
So here is my tribute, just to you.

For my dear friend T Shooters and all who like her endured the agony of waiting for their man to come home from war.

Copyright � 28th July 1998 Lee O'Neill

WELCOME HOME �

I'm in the Royal Australian Regiment
To the Jungles I was sent
Kill or be killed was our aim
Many a Digger found much pain

Through the bloody jungles I was walkin
Should have been at home, doin some porkin
I left my lovely wife, for 12 months
That makes me a bit of a dunce!

Waitin, Waitin for the attack
Get your head down, here's the flack
Our Family welcomed with open arms
The rest of Australia, turned its back!

The war was such as long time ago?
It was yesterday, carn't let go
PTSD is its name
The dam DVA, think its a game

The game, they write all the rules
It goes on & on, treat us like fools
We served our country-with No question
We were the best - of that selection!

The screaming, the Pain
Am I going insane?
Violence was our trainin
Look at me sideways, I'll give you a cane-in

For our country we gave our All
If it needs us again - give us a Call!
We fought on & on - until we fell
Day after day, still in Hell

Why is it those backs still turn?
While in my head - the thoughts do burn!
Who is there to give us a hand?
Our Mates, who else, by me they Stand!

A Vietnam Veteran should stand with Pride!
To Honour those mates, many who died
There's no longer any need; to roam & roam
Put out your hand Mate, WELCOME HOME!

Copyright � 28th November 1998 Tony Blake
7RAR Vietnam 70-71

DUTY DONE � 

G'day Mate I'm 7RAR
Bloody hell the best by far
My name is Tony, I'm a Grunt
The Viet-cong we did hunt!

Long ago and far away
Was Vietnam only Yesterday?
Forget this war, I hear them say
Its not them, that went that way

One thing worse than day, is night
Try and make it without a fright
Although my wife is there to care
What's wrong now, I hear her say?
How do I explain; the terror away?

Here comes the rising sun
Another night of duty, loyally done!
I am awake so others can sleep
When will my duty be, at last, complete?

A Vietnam hat is now my uniform
It protects me admist the raging Storm
Just long ago & far away, it was a Gat!
When my home, was Nui Dat

The Diggers did all Expected
To our Dead, a Memorial erected
For those living? What expected?
Get on with life, your Not effected!

I saw some sights not reported
Who won the War? I was taunted
The Diggers did, you silly Bastard
Now its the peace, that must be mastered!

What I now have, is a name
But why so long, alone with pain?
When finally my mates come for me
Will they say, I did my DUTY?

Copyright � 28th November 1998 Tony Blake Tony Blake
7RAR
Vietnam 70-71

INSANITY  �

After your war, you came home again.
In outward appearance you seem quite sane.
But there is anger and pain and nightmares too.
Some nights you wonder if you'll ever get through.

Your loved ones tell you they really do care,
And with you the nightmares they're willing to share.
But you just can't tell them, you're locked up inside,
So all the anger and insanity you try to hide.

They finally give up and you drift apart,
This final betrayal is a knife in your heart.
Your friends have all gone and you're all alone,
Fighting for survival now out on your own.

In sheer frustration you turn to the bottle,
And begin living your life at full throttle.
You listen to sad songs trying to cry,
But the tears wont come, however you try.

Though you try, the insanities remain,
And suicidal thoughts enter your brain.
In utter despair you visit a shrink,
Hoping he'll teach you how not to think.

Slowly the madness begins to subside,
As you slow down from this crazy ride.
With all life's niceties you want to conform,
Hoping this insanity will finally reform.

Things seem much better and you're feeling ok,
And you think your insanity has gone away,
But every so often it breaks out again,
Just to remind you.....you're still insane!!!

Copyright � 28th July 1998 Lee O'Neill

MILKRUN �

Once a month the convoy went,
On a resupply run we were sent.
Just another milkrun so they said,
But why the gunship overhead?

Is it just a gesture, our minds to soothe?
Or, do they know charlie's on the move?
Some went along just for the fun,
They thought it a breeze, this Long Binh run.

They didn't think they could end up dead.
Sent home in a box lined with lead.
Its a piece of cake they all said,
But what is the holdup up ahead?

At last the word comes down the line,
A village bus has hit a VC mine.
Moving again, we slowly drive past,
The horror caused by that awesome blast.

The broken twisted bodies of the wounded and dead,
The horror of it all still lives in my head.
The ones who came along just for fun,
Soon realized it was not just a milkrun.

That mine charlie set was meant for us,
Instead it took out a village bus.
You see charlie doesn't care who he kills,
And to blow up a bus doesn't take many skills.

It should have been us lying wounded and dead,
But this time charlie killed innocents instead.
Sometimes you lose, sometimes you win,
Just another milkrun, this trip to Long Binh.

Copyright � 28th July 1998 Lee O'Neill

T'was AO Margaret ten clicks out from the base.
At the briefing, they said it was a fairly safe place.

But those Int reports, you never could trust.
So staying alert was a definite must.

We got to the spot and settled in for the night,
Checking our perimeter was closed in real tight.

This arduous duty, it had to be borne,
All through the night, till first light of dawn.

Time passes slowly and the night is so still,
Staying alert takes all of your skill.

2am, feeling drowsy now and almost asleep,
But I must stay awake, this virgil to keep.

My mates to protect, sleeping back at the base,
If I failed them now, I could never look in their face.

Then, suddenly a loud crash in the night,
Rifle to shoulder, I'm ready to fight.

No enemy I see, but I find instead,
My rifle is aimed at my radio ops head.

What caused that crash, the noise I just heard?
Then out of the scrub comes a bantam, a small feathered bird.

With shaking hands I lower my rifle,
To take a mans life is no mere trifle.

I think of that soldier from day to day,
And I often wonder what he would say.

If only he knew, just how close he came,
To being another statistic in life's deadliest game.

Copyright � 25th June 1998 Lee O'Neill

VIET NAM �

He sits all by himself with a bottle by his side.

Pushing away the woman that he courted to be his bride

He thinks about his mates and when he was a young man

Why did they send them there, to this place called Viet Nam?

Why did they send me to a foreign land?

Why did they want me to go, I couldn�t understand?

To go and fight an allied war I suppose, I could lend a hand

Jesus Christ what have they done?

They sent me to Viet Nam

They drafted them like sheep to a war they could not win

To the other side of the world for some it was the end

He watched his mates lay dying, spread all across the land

Why did they send me there?

This hell called Viet Nam

The bottle is the only way; he escapes from what is real

To hide away from all the pain that constantly he feels

The torture and the torment that dwells within this man

Why did they send him there?

This place called Viet Nam

He sits up straight in bed at night and looks around the room

Wondering if he�s back at the place he was in June

It�s been thirty years since that war put shivers through this man

But every night he goes to bed

He dreams of Viet Nam

His family all around him, they really don�t understand

What has happen to there boy over there in Viet Nam?

Unless you�ve seen it for yourself, you don�t really understand

What happen to the men?

In that hell called Viet Nam

Copyright � Written by a Veterans son.

Inner Strength

Thank You Australia. �

Thank you Australia

Thank you one and all

For all the support you gave us

When our backs were against the wall

We gave our lives and spirits

To protect you for years to come

We answered the call of our country

But you treated us like scum

You called us �baby killers�

Murderers and the likes

And while your sons and daughters

were trying to survive

The �BLOODY MONGREL� wharfies

called a couple of strikes

We came home after our Tour

Under cover of the night

To be whisked away in secret

So as not to cause any strife

When we stepped out in the daylight

With our Medals so shiny bright

You cursed and spat and treated us

Like a wound that oozes puss

It was your way of protesting

Against the �War Machine�

But you used us as the scapegoats

And for that you will always be seen

As a country that was too ashamed

To stick up for what was right

Then left the under dogs stranded

With no future joy in sight

They were in the hands of the aggressors

And were treated with disdain

For only wanting their freedom

They were left to deal with the pain

You blamed the Government of the day

for sending our young to fight

But they went with pride to do their best

as others had done before

And came back home to the ones they loved

Just to fight another WAR

For those of us that did come home

We remember those with pride

Who gave their all for their mates

And for their country died

But as always for the living

The war will never end

As the memory in the mind

Has been etched with an indelible pen.

Copyright � 2001 Phil Kadow.

NIGHTMARE  �

Every night the nightmare waits,
Haunting, taunting, my mind it baits.

Staying up late, not wanting to sleep,
But my date with the nightmare, I have to keep.

I drink late at night to keep the horrors at bay,
But this nightmare of mine just won't go away.

I awake in a sweat, my head feels like bursting,
Reach for the bottle, for a drink I'm thirsting.

Desperately searching to set my mind free,
And hold back the horror that still haunts me.

The nightmare recedes to the back of my mind,
As in the bottle some comfort I find.

But I know it'll back to haunt me again.
How much longer can I endure this pain?

No longer able to sleep, I'm wide awake.
Waiting out the hours until daybreak.

As the dawn approaches, I stumble from bed,
Memories of the nightmare spinning my head.

Somehow I manage to get through the day,
Oh God please won't you send it away.

What have I done to suffer this way?
How much longer do I have to pay,
For the sins of a country that sent me to war?
I gave my all but you still want more.

Copyright � 19th August 1998 Lee O'Neill

HUEY

THOSE LEFT WAITING �

In a caravan in the red dust and gums of the outback,
In a sleepy town by the seaside in a little shack,
In towns and cities, you who were left, waited,
Hoping against hope, your wait was not ill-fated.

The sisters and brothers, the mothers and fathers too,
The wives and sweethearts, all seeing it through.
Closely watching each day, the news on TV,
Never knowing just what they might see.

Hoping to catch just a glimpse of him,
Is it him, it can't be, he looks so grim.
Each night a mother kneels down to pray,
For her beloved son so far away.

She lost his father at war before he was born,
If she lost him now her heart would be torn.
Dear God won't you please hear my plea,
Bring him back home again safely to me.

Sadly for many came that knock on the door,
And they knew then that they'd see him no more.
Slowly but finally that long year passed,
And he is now back home with you at last.

You endure the agony, heartache and pain,
Of never knowing if you would see him again.
But you waited faithfully, steadfast and true,
So here is my tribute just for you.

Copyright � 20th January 1999 Lee O'Neill

AUSTRALIAN VIETNAM VETERANS ALPHABET �

A is for AUSSIE the salt of the earth.
A fearless soldier but full of mirth.

B is for BALMY bar, a noggie drink.
Two litres down the throat and your Stomach is down the sink.

C is for CHARLIE, the elusive VC.
He hid in the jungle but didn�t escape me.

D is for DIGGER, the bravest soldier of all.
He gives his everything at the beckoned call.

E is for EGGBEATERS that shudder and shake.
Crapping jelly petrol in their wake.

F is for FLEAS and also the ticks.
That feed on a fellow from his head to his�.

G is for GRUNT, the footslogging infanteer.
Goes everywhere on �Shank�s Pony� but always full of cheer.

H is for the HOLE that the Communist rockets made.
That would take me a week to fill in with a spade.

I is for IMPORTANCE of staying alive.
The body might falter but the ANZAC spirit will survive.

J is for JESUS who will jam all the guns gears.
And rust every bayonet with his tears.

K is for the KNOWLEDGE I quickly acquired.
Of lying as flat as a Krate when the VC fire.

L is for the LEECHES that hid in the mud.
Attach themselves to my knackers and suck out the blood.

M is for MAMMASAN, the boss of the bars.
You buy my girl Aussie, she come with specimen jar.

N is for NOGGIE, the native of the land.
For the good ones that comes here we must put out our hand.

O is for OUC-DA-LOI numbered 1 to 10.
Depending on how much the digger would spend.

P is for PIASTA, the local dough.
Fifty notes give you �special crazy� show.

Q is for QUICK, which all Diggers are.
Quick as grease lightning to stay alive in a land afar.

R is for the RUMOURS we heard every day.
That the Communist morale was fading away.

S is for SAIGON TEA, the ladies would sip.
The more you buy the lower zip.

T is for TUNNELS our sappers went down.
To fight the Communists rats in the underground.

U is for US, the Aussie that served.
Finally we�re getting what we deserved.

V is for VICTORY that we were denied.
They wouldn�t let us win even though we tried.

W is for WAKEY, the last day in town.
Get into the aircraft and come on down.

X is for X-PERIMENTS made with shell and bomb.
A neat little �cross� on a nice little tomb.

Y in the world have I been placed.
In a paddy of muddy water right up to my waist.

Z is for ZEAL we all possess.
Fanatical in nature when we faced Ho Chi Minh�s best.

Copyright � Marty Cameron.

The Freedom Flight  �

They brought us back on the Freedom Flight

Thirty hours ago - the jungle fight

Leave pass and pay - Now kill no more

Switch yourself off from the TV War

Our debrief was, you'll get over this one

And so we stood on old Mascot

Home again - Now that's a lark

How many years you'll carry the spark

The troubled years move swiftly by

And even though your loved ones try

There's broken homes, suicide and booze

There's strange dreams you cannot loose

Home will be the peace of your heart

But until your Home, there's no start

Now we all came home at a different date

But for me it's getting late

So if by the mound you wish me best

Maybe then you'll say

He's home - At Rest."

~Author Unknown~

POEM FROM an AMERICAN VETERAN  �

Copyright � Denver (Denny) Adams
3rd Squadron Aviation (door gunner)
11th Armored Cavalry Regiment �Blackhorse�
Vietnam Service - June 1969 to June 1970

Denny Adams passed away on the 16:11:2000 at 16:30 hours U.S. EST. Rest in Peace my Friend. Gavan M. Vigar

MORE POEMS FROM THE VIETNAM ERA BY US VETERANS

THE VET �

Look, there he goes again, that dumb vet,
Down the road to get drunk again I bet.
Wonder why he does it, day after day?
How can he go on living in this way?

I've heard he had a pretty good life,
Even had a family, two kids and a wife.
They ended up leaving him, they'd had enough,
Of all his drinking, rages and stuff.

Yet down at the pub, he is always so quiet,
Drinks all alone never causing a riot.
He keeps pretty much to himself, never has much to say,
It seems he is just existing, living from day to day.

I haven't seen that vet lately, it's been a few days,
Maybe he is sleeping it off in an alcoholic haze.
I heard that vet is dead, he blew himself away,
Now the town is full of vets, his funeral is today.

At the pub after his funeral, they told me his story,
And the story they told me wasn't just another warrie.
It seems he was a hero, saved others in a real tight spot,
Not a thought for himself, though the situation was hot.

He managed to save them all, except his best mate,
They said by the time he got to him, it was too late.
They said he never got over it and pulled right into his shell,
And ever since then, he has been living a life of pure hell.

I wish I'd gotten to know him he sounded like a decent bloke,
But I was too busy with my life and so we never spoke.
Now I know the truth, I'll never turn my back on another vet,
I want to say I'm truly sorry and I will, the first chance I get.

In memory of Phil Dundas and all other vets who found their pain 
too much to bear.

Copyright � 26 Feb 2001. Lee O'Neill

EARTH ANGEL �

I lay there all night long the bullet in my side
Bright crimson on my uniform so bloodied by the fight

My comrades fought so hard and true to protect my deadly plight
Whilst waiting for the "medivac" to carry me through the night.

Back to the protective arms of our gentle nurses, so loving in their care
All day they hovered over me to keep me from despair.


Whilst doctors shook their weary heads to say, "He's too far gone"
best keep him warm and cozy so that he might easily pass on.


To travel that well-worn path that many soldiers walk on by.
My earth Angel sat all through the night to ease my dying pain.


She wiped away a tear or two and gently fared me well
Rest now, brave soldier, her kind words, spoken but true.
For, come the gentle daylight hour, my life on earth is through.

I would be on my very way. With fond visions of her farewell
Her gentle soothing hands, Her eyes so deep and blue


Yet, sadness in her steady voice she tried to soothe me through
For me, my run was over. I smoothly pass'd on by


A final whisper to that beautiful nurse 'twas my faint but last "goodbye"
I see the golden light now, which bathed her fair blonde hair


Surrounded now by other angels who, seemed to have appeared from nowhere.
To guide my spirit now on through, to ease its way on  home


Copyright � Pedro. July 2001.

THE NASHO �

They came down from the mountains and from the red soiled plains
From big smoky cities, and country towns too small to name

Those young men from Australia, were chosen by the ball
Drafted by the government to answer the countries call.

They donned the old slouch hat that wore the Anzac name
To forge. a mighty army and so they were now soldiers trained

Shunned by their own people yet they rallied to the call
Then, shipped off to a place called Vietnam,
To fight that bloody war.

They fought a ruthless enemy and beat him at his game
They fought him in the paddy and often in the rain

They fought him in his cities, with its rat-infested drains
They met him in the Vung Tau bar and offered him a shout
Then, propped him again to his skinny feet and drank him down again.

They met that cunning Charlie in the jungles so dark and dense
Chased him in his tunnel hides and mountain fighting pits

They followed Charlie to his lair and gave him quite a fight  
But when the bastards stole our mines they blew our arse to hell.

They caught that little bugger then sent him on his way
To peacefully lie forever in some lonely bush land grave.

But being true blue diggers not once did they give way  
Nor gave their foes a quarter and they did us the same.

Now, hated by our own dear Aussie folk they took it on the chin
Yet those young proud men of Anzac would do it all again.

They once marched into history as young men of self-renown
'Twas such a time so long ago when they fought in the Vietnam towns.

To save a useless country that tethered on the brink.
And fight the politician's war to keep him in the pink.

So when next you see an old Vietnam Vet a bumming on the street
Do offer him a handshake and shout that man a drink
Then thank your lucky stars it wasn't you that day.

Who won the golden lottery that sent you on your way

He doesn't want your pity. He doesn't want your tin
He only went to do his job and come back home again.


Copyright � Pedro 2001.

In this poem, my intention is not to offend Australian or American Vets but to make the world aware that you all still exist. My views of how it was may not be correct but they do come from my heart.

Salute to Vietnam Vets �

Australians, Americans, All creeds, All colours
Men, at nineteen, boys with brave hearts of a life not yet lived
Side by side from different shores blood, sweat and feelings shared
Came together to fight for freedom in an unforgiving, God forsaken war.

While at home, ungrateful bystanders jeered.
Soldiers who witnessed, death, destruction, defeat the suffering of an innocent child, an ally or mate the defoliation of a field, or jungle, in the blink of an eye.

Returning as men with nightmares for memories forever indelible
Older in mind, ruined in body scarred beyond their years with untold horrors and Agent Orange devouring  their Daughters and Sons Still the innocent suffer.

Men who died, remembered only as a number or by family.
Not by you, not by me
To give to these men, the time has come, the love and respect they earned as due compensation.

Not in parades nor celebration but from your hearts and actions
They could be your sons, fathers, husbands or lover for them, the sentence is not over
HUG -A- VET and your unawareness, a retraction.

Copyright � 6th Jan 1998 TeAnne Hardie, AKA. TeAnne

Poem submitted by Ralph Sengstock, Mon, 18 Nov 2002

Every one hates a Soldier.�

        EVERY one hates a Soldier
        Until the enemy is at the gate
        Then the feelings change
        To ones of PRIDE not hate

        BUT when the conflict is over
        And the enemy is no longer a threat
        The feeling of the Nation turns
        From relief to regret

        THE loss of life is horrific
        At the hands of either side
        It's no wonder so many people
        Just sat down and cried

        BUT the Soldiers must come home again
        To return to their respective States
        And that's where the countries love
        Turns again to hate

        FOR they will be cursed for the loss
        Of many innocent civilian victims
        And be kicked and punched and set upon
        For only answering the call


        THAT call came from the Government
        Which is voted in by the people
        And these people we know
        Are not the soldiers equal

        SO if you have a problem
        With our Soldiers in some far off distant land
        Shout and curse your Government
        But shake a Soldiers hand

        IF it were not for the people
        Who work to keep us safe
        Another enemy will come along
        And start rattling the garden gate

        SO remember well your FREEDOM
        That you take so much for granted
        And say thank you to those people
        Who at all times stand PROUD and TALL

        FOR they form a line in front of you
        To protect you one and all
        Then stay there with out question
        As if they were a wall

        That runs around your country
        To keep you safe and warm
        So that no one on the inside
        Will come to any harm



        Copyright �  2003.  Phil Kadow. 

THE FINAL INSPECTION

The soldier stood and faced God, Which must always come to pass.

He hoped his shoes were shining, Just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, you soldier, How shall I deal with you ?

Have you always turned the other cheek ? To My Church have you been true?"

The soldier squared his shoulders and said, "No, Lord, I guess I ain't.

Because those of us who carry guns, Can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays, And at times my talk was tough.

And sometimes I've been violent, Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny, That wasn't mine to keep...

Though I worked a lot of overtime, When the bills got just too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help, Though at times I shook with fear.

And sometimes, God, forgive me, I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place, Among the people here.

They never wanted me around, Except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord, It needn't be so grand.

I never expected or had too much, But if you don't, I'll understand.

There was a silence all around the throne, Where the saints had often trod.

As the soldier waited quietly, For the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, you soldier, You've borne your burdens well.

Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets, You've done your time in Hell."