Vets of Nam

Monsoons in sixty-seven

Didn't cleanse their wounds of war.

Saw too many buddies go

Nobody could say what for.

The early trips to heaven

For boys their son's wouldn't know.

Those who saw sixty-eight

In a year had grown so old.

Coming home just off their flight

Baby killers they were told.

Make love not war; spat with hate.

Yet still more were sent to fight.

Years and years of devilish dreams

Whiskey nights don't drown them out.

Names remembered on a wall

Fallen in a war of doubt.

Patriots alone it seems,

Vets of Nam who gave their all.

Sergeant Major (Ret) George S. Kulas