Stories & Poems About War

Thanks for liking my poem well enough to post it to your site. I am honored that you would do this and, of course, I give you permission, as well as send you and all the Marines in Easy Co. my blessings. Virginia Ellis (Ginny) http://www.poetrybyginny.com/index.htm

"Good night, Dad," I watched my father,

As he climbed the stairs to go to bed;

"Good night, son," he softly answered,

With a vague salute to his white head.

I waved back from my big chair,

But Dad's wave was more salute;

He learned that sixty years ago.

As a World War II recruit.

The story goes...Dad was eighteen,

When World War II broke out;

About the age my son is now,

Too young to know what life's about.

I think I know how I would feel,

If they drafted my young son;

I suppose my grandfolks felt the same,

December Seventh Nineteen Forty-one.

Dad seldom talked about the war,

But I remember, as a kid,

Once I asked him where he went,

And what it was he did.

He said, "Someday, son, I'll tell you,"

When your old enough to know,

About the battlefields I fought on,

And the bloodshed I saw flow.

And, you know, he's never told me,

I've asked time and time again;

I do know he has some medals,

In velvet cases in the den.

He use to get them out each year,

When he donned his uniform;

Parades would be held on holidays,

And Veterans would perform.

"That's my Dad," I'd point out,

As he marched proudly down the street;

His old unit reunited,

Those old guys never missed a beat.

But I wonder how he felt and thought,

When, still a boy, he went to war,

Was it just a new adventure?

Did he know what the fight was for?

He gave up his days at college,

Instead of pigskins, he had guns;

He heard no cheers for touchdowns,

Just "Thank God, They're on the run!"

When I was just a little kid,

Sometimes Dad screamed out at night;

Mom would say, "Go back to bed,

War dreams give your dad a fright."

My Uncle Ned was killed in France,

That was Dad's youngest brother;

Dad wouldn't talk about him much,

What I knew...I learned from my Mother.

That was the war, they say,

To end all future wars;

How many have we had since then?

Will there be many more?

My Dads a gentle, quiet man,

Who won't discuss his fears or pain;

He fought for those unborn, as yet,

To insure this land remains.

There is no proper way to thank him,

That will have to come from God above;

But I can, at least, extend my hand,

In sincere respect and love.

~Virginia (Ginny) Ellis~

Copyright © 2000

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