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THE REAL FORGOTTEN WAR

Author: Sfc Bob Barfield
Co. F 7th Inf. Regt. 3rd Div

The guns of war are silent now
Yet I can hear them still,
I see the faces of the dead
I guess I always will.

They say that time will ease the pain
Can make a man forget,
Though almost fifty years have passed
I see the carnage yet.

Korea was so long ago
Or was it yesterday?
I hear the screams, in torturous dreams,
O let me wake I pray.

The awful sounds of exploding rounds
Still ring within my ears
So many dead and dying
Yet there's no time for tears.

Positions that were overrun
With fighting hand to hand
How many did I kill dear God?
I pray you'll understand.

At last the fight is over
The endless night is through,
We won our fight for Boomerang
But those who lived were few.

So when it's time to judge us Lord
And weigh just what we're worth,
So many died, so few remember
We served our hell on Earth.


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A LETTER HOME

Author: Unknown


"Dear Mom and Dad, the war is done
My task is through,
And, Mom, there is something
I must ask of you.
I have a friend, 0 such a friend,
He has no home you see,
And so, Mom, I would really like to
Bring him home with me,"

"Dear Son, we don't mind
If someone comes home with you.
I am sure he could stay
Perhaps a week or two."

"Dear Mom and Dad, there is
Something you must know.
Now please don't be alarmed.
My friend in battle was recently shot
And now he has no arm."

"Dear Son, do not be afraid
To bring him home with you
Perhaps he could stay a day or two."

"Dear Mom and Dad, but Mom, he is
Not just a friend.
He is like a brother, too.
That is why I want him home with us,
And like a son to you.

Before you give your answer, Mom,
I really don't want to beg,
But my friend in battle was recently wounded,
And also lost his leg."

"Dear Son, it hurts me so much to say,
The answer must be no.
For Dad and I have no time for a boy
Who is crippled so."

So months went by and a letter came,
It said their Son had died.
When they read the cause of death,
The shock was suicide.

Days later when the casket came,
Draped in the Nation's flag,
They saw their Son lying there
.....without an arm
.....and without a leg.


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FALLING SNOW

Author: Sgt.Bill Bussey, A/1/5 1951


Winter time, 1951, It was December I believe, not that it matters none,
These last eight weeks had been nothing but snow, and cold that went to the bone.
Tonight it was falling like a blanket, you couldn't see ten feet beyond the wire,
Some where this night, in a far away land, people were warm, there by a fire.

Warm, how that did sound, there was I knew, no warmth in this damn land,
It is amazing to see, just how much of this frozen hell a man can stand.
And we, here this day, have it easy, compared to our brothers who, at chosin froze,
What was within those Marines that brought them out, only God knows.

As I stand my watch this night, I look beyond the wire, there a tree does sway,
I watch a moment, the snow is falling soft, like feathers, I turn away.
Some thing is not right, I turn in haste, we have been here for days, there is no tree.
My eyes strain to see, what I thought I saw, wasn't there, what was, was the enemy.

I fired twice, I could hardly see, as he fell I heard him cry out, I didn't care,
For if the truth be known, I was glad he came, glad I was there.
We watched for others all through the night, but there were no more,
Thus passed another cold and miserable night of war.

Night will pass, it takes forever it seems, for darkness is a curtin,
That holds, and hides, our fears to fuel, that which is uncertain.
But in the light of day, we usually find, things not as we are prone to remember,
Such was the case with this enemy soldier all he wanted to do was surrender.

I have thought of this man, these many years, I see his face, as we wrapped him in snow,
I have tried to find compassion and, even sorrow in my heart, to this day, it is still no.
Although his face is clear today, and there is no joy in my heart in the fact he died,
Instead, I more clearly see, Van, Berlin,Jack, Davy, my pals, my family, and how the families cried.


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NAKTONG RIVER

Author: H.R. Luster, A/1/5 1950, WIA Aug 17, 1950.


The Naktong river, far away,
It flows in Korea this day.
It once flowed with blood at a turning point,
As we forced back the red tide, at the rivers joint.

Was it worth the price that we had to pay,
To give South Korea a freedom day?
I returned to that field to see,
What kind of answer was waiting for me.

There it was ...O-Bong-Nee,
Standing still that lonely tree.
Once Marines trudged up those hills,
Ready to swallow some bitter pills.

Corpsman, Corpsman; the echoed call,
As mighty men begin to fall.
You can't live forever¯ it might have been heard,
We all knew that with out a word.

Students walk to the school yards beyond,
Children are playing in a cheerful bond.
Farmers lead their ox to plow,
Those mighty men should see it now.

Yes it was worth it, as I look at a church,
I see people no longer living in the lurch.
Freedom isn't free, as it may seem to them,
It was paid for by others, soldiers, and Him.

A miriacle it was, let there be no doubt,
An answer to prayer with a silent shout;
We were part of a miraculous day,
God bless Korea, I can truly say.


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