BRAVE DEAD
This morning I went out to lower the flag to half staff in honor of those whom we remember in special ways on Memorial Day. As I stood saluting it a memory flowed through my mind. In the late 1940's, I was on full time duty as an Administrative Assistant with the New York National Guard. Often, I and others were called upon to be honor guards at the burial of soldiers whose bodies were brought back to the United States following their deaths in World War II.
That detail was difficult as we saw the families of these brave dead, mourn their son's and father's deaths. It was harder for the veterans forming the honor guard than it was for me. I saw the suffering of the family, but with them memories of their buddies, who were killed in action, flooded through their minds.
Often upon return to the armory they would drown their sorrows with rounds of beer. It was on those occasions they shared their battle experiences. Their stories were overwhelming.
It is to those men, all of whom have since died, and to the veterans I have seen buried, that I dedicate the following poem:
BRAVE DEAD
These men went forth to fight our wars,
Were placed in body bags.
Heroically they gave their lives,
Returned with coffin flags.
We stood beside their open graves,
With rifles by our side.
Their coffins draped above the ground,
Brave soldiers were inside.
The rifles to our shoulders flew.
We heard our sergeant’s cry,
Volleys fired over men, who
For country dared to die.
The bugle sounds its mournful taps,
Its echo fills the air.
It is these soldiers’ final call,
At rest they’re lying there.
Their flags were folded carefully,
To their families given.
I saw the sorrow in their eyes,
By grief all were riven.
We climbed into to our vehicle,
Our duty had been done.
We would be called on numerous days,
To honor fathers – sons.
Their graves are closed and tombstones stand,
Above each soldier’s head.
May we who live stand by their graves.
And honor our brave dead.
Don E. Cunningham, Author/poet ©5-26-2008 (Memorial Day)
These men went forth to fight our wars,
Were placed in body bags.
Heroically they gave their lives,
Returned with coffin flags.
We stood beside their open graves,
With rifles by our side.
Their coffins draped above the ground,
Brave soldiers were inside.
The rifles to our shoulders flew.
We heard our sergeant’s cry,
Volleys fired over men, who
For country dared to die.
The bugle sounds its mournful taps,
Its echo fills the air.
It is these soldiers’ final call,
At rest they’re lying there.
Their flags were folded carefully,
To their families given.
I saw the sorrow in their eyes,
By grief all were riven.
We climbed into to our vehicle,
Our duty had been done.
We would be called on numerous days,
To honor fathers – sons.
Their graves are closed and tombstones stand,
Above each soldier’s head.
May we who live stand by their graves.
And honor our brave dead.
Don E. Cunningham, Author/poet ©5-26-2008 (Memorial Day)
On last night's news I heard that there are 100 burials a day in our National Cemeteries. Take time to thank a veteran or active duty service person whenever you can. I hope that not only on this Memorial Day, but each day we will pause to remember those who gave their lives for our freedom and those who continue to do so today. Their anxious families also need our prayers.
Hugs, In Christ's and my Love,
Don E. Cunningham, Author/Poet Copyright 5-26-08
Labels: brave, bugle, coffins, country, dead, die, families, fathers, flags, graves, honor guard, memorial day, military honors, mournful, soldiers, sons, volleys


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