Killed and killed

A true and sad story of the permanent wounds of war.

Killed and killed

On Friday night my father drank his rum.

He would come and wake me up late in the night.

I watched him and listen to his war stories.

He would start calling out to lost friends.

I would sit and pity him for his great pain.

.He drank every night to try to hide the burden.

He told me. " I enlisted son, I don't know why for Korea and stay a second tour.

The blood infested my soul.

I killed and killed.

I watched my friends die."

He would sit alone and talk to ghost of men left in un-marked graves.

I would carry him to bed.

He would whisper " they are not coming home."

My father had no fear.

He was a hard and cold man who loved laughter and woman.

God, those memories drove him crazy.

When he quit drinking he never talks of war.

He told me ' no-one cares about his time in the war.

He was another crazy Indian man killing for the USA.

Ain't no rewards now or then."

My father held all his Army decoration with great pride.

He was proud to defend his country.

He said " I know soldiers must fight to keep us free."

My father died a young man of 61 years old.

The old Soldiers came and gave him a 21 gun salute.

I wonder would he trade the nightmares and the blood on his hands to be clean of a war never won.

                       COYOTE

                     1998

Reviews

[Dakota]

So many in every generation feel no one cares about their time in war. The entire piece slammed home for me for reasons you're aware of, good friend. Your last line will probably remain one of life's unanswered questions. Would they honestly trade it all in for a moment's peace from the haunting regrets and nightmares? No matter what the answer is there are those of us who do care, wholeheartedly and to us their sacrifice will always matter. Thank you for this Coyote, thank you.

[shoaib]

compelling poetry .. excellent work with this ...
i found it to be very moving
great work

[quinfinn]

i'll bet he would make the trade, given the opportunity. excellent, graphic and compelling piece, filled with sadness and the love of an embittered son. proud of his departed father and the love he gave to his country. this is destined to be a classic and i have no doubt that it may be posted someday in the halls of a vfw
post for posterity. my father too, fought in the korean war,wwII and vietnam.
in his last months he was stricken with dementia and would ask me if the vc
were still hiding in the woods beside the house we lived in. it was a heartbreaking time for me, to see a man so strong, so smart, and so proud
turn into a frightened shell of his former self. your poem actually brought
the tears to my eyes, but i am grateful for having read it.

[jhed]

as much as i'd love hearing stories about wars, there's still a pinch of hurt about their experiences.. though i haven't experienced my grandpa telling me stories about those.. wish he waited for me to be born. Anyway, your poem is really sad. I really felt how hard it was for your father to have this kind of experience.

i salute him though. Good job :)

[emmajoy]

There are two terrible, terrible tragedies here: the true story of your dear dad and how war made him suffer mentally and physically for years after his service - and, the fact that veterans of all wars are left to cope virtually alone with the aftermath of fighting, of seeing such bloody scenes, losing friends and so much more.

God knows what the answer to your question is. There'll never be an answer.

[The Analog Kid]

A very poignant poem about the scars of war. Your father was tortured until the end by an unspeakable ugliness of war.

[ORBLE]

This is such a touching poem, supported by the fact that it's a true story. I too wonder would he trade nightmares and the blood on his hands to be clean of a war never won. It is a sad thought that he was badly affected by the war for so long after he fought. May your father rest in peace.
Redstripes

[Desert Dreamer]

I am thankful that you share these stories and consequences of war. The wars never end...

[Geralyn Miller]

You have given us a powerful work. Un fortunately, society likes to avoid dealing with the soldiers who fought our unwon wars.
Your work reminded me of my friend, Paul Kellwood, son of Joe Kellwood who was a Navajo code talker. Paul enlisted as a Marine, was sent to Viet Nam, lost his leg and wounded his spirit. He chose drugs instead of alcohol and died far younger than your Father. I hope his spirit is whole once again , and that he found peace, as I hope your Father has.

[beautiful disaster]

I have friends who are vets of this "wonderful Iraqi war". They are miserable and they are injured and they gave their sanity and lives so we can remain free. But how free is our country to where our President is stating that he will pass a bill to regulate how we heat our water and homes if we cannot save our own money to do so he will do it for us. How free is our country when we have priests who threaten to burn the Quaran to make his own personal views known while endangering the lives of hundreds of thousands of young and old men and woman who are fighting for the very right that allows him to speak his own opinions and views. Then once they have fought for our beloved government they are walked all over as if they are the ground beneath our feet. They are not give proper medical attention and their families that are left here to pray for their safe return get the bad news that they will no longer be returning and therefore are left to fend for themselves. Thank heavens for our corrupt government who would care less who dies as long as their own pay checks are filled each week.