Written by L/cpl. John W. Thomas

THE WISDOM OF WHY

Once upon a time, There were these old
men,
Supposed of wisdom, For they were the
elders,
Not for to be questioned, And all tribes of
the world,
Liken to be as they, For my god had
blessed the elders,
And their country, Above all kinsmen
of the world,
And the elders saw strife in the land,
And the elders's said,
We can not fight, We are elders, We
are wisdom,
We are not fore, To be questioned,
Fore we are old,
Fore we are to old to die, Whom
shall we send,
And the young bloods were
summon,Young of the young,
Cream of the corp, Best of the
best, The pride of the family,
A mother's baby, And they
marched off, Not to question,
The old men, Fore they were
the elders of wisdom,
And the young bloods, Was in
that horrible place,
Oh that horrible place, The true
hell, Vietnam.
For to survive Vietnam one month,
The young bloods no longer beleived,
In the wisdom of the elders, Asked
the questions why,
And no longer beleived the old men
sane,
For each young blood became
one with the other,
A special bond, that lives Beyond the
grave,
A wisdom the elders shall never know,
in Vietnam,
That horror, That horrible place, The
real hell,
The young blood's green, Turned to red,
Fore there was no friend in Vietnam,
Not people,
snake, nor rat, Not grass, heat,
sun, nor rain,
Not day, not night, not even friendily fire.
And the young bloods,
who came home, Stood at the wall,
A thousand yard stare,
Reflected just inches away into the wall,
To a place 10,000 miles hence,
Vietnam, The horror, That horroible place ,
For they were no longer young,
But my god, Had given them the wisdom,
And they asked the old men,
The elders of wisdom, Not to be questioned,
WHY?????????, And my god above cried