What Price Glory?

Today our returning soldiers are greeted with gratefull appreciation. Not so in the Vietnam War. They were reviled and in some cases spit upon, and left to fend for themselves!

What Price Glory?

 

 

He Slumps motionless in the doorway, his tattered sweater pulled tightly against him to ward off the chill. His well-worn crutches, lie within easy reach on the steps. His head, bowed low next to his chest, jerks up suddenly at the sound of someone approaching and his hand automatically stretches out to beseech a coin or two from the stranger. Ignored, he mutters a muffled epithet to the back the offending pedestrian, and reaches for the treasure in a torn paper bag at his side, inhaling its contents with one long continuous gulp, his medals gleaming in the sun!

 

 

The Forgotten Hero

 

He slumps motionless in the doorway

Forlorn, weary and ill

His moment of glory forgotten

(That battle on the hill!)

But the memories linger on

Of his buddies slaughtered and dead

And the many regrets he has

For the things he left unsaid

Valiantly, he fired

Trying to save his stricken friends

Until only HE survived

Now, his nightmare never ends

And the world too soon forgot him

"Just a vagrant" they all say

Now, no one even remembers

They called him a hero on that day!

 

 

Copyright ©1999 Beatrice Boyle

(All rights reserved)

 

Author's Note

Critique invited

Reviews

[Sheila Kline]

Dearest Bea!
How true.....how fitting.........how briliantly described!
My critique is that it is welcomed and wonderful!
With Friendship, Sheila

[Wildecat]

Grandma Bea, I can relate to this well written poem, I was one of those Vietnam soldiers who was spit on. Not a very nice welcome home after fighting for freedom my country and flagg.