Theodore's World

Our Veterans took a thousand towns and villages……
Snow fields and empty stretches of Ocean……..
The jungles hot and deep,
and fought the fight for FREEDOM,
and turned then into sacred places
with their courage in the face of unimaginable horror

Young, full of dreams and hope for a future...blue eyes shining bright.

He stepped on the bus that would carry him away from us.

We waved until we could see the bus no more and then
we waved once more...as if to insure all our love went with him.

We could not imagine our baby boy going off to
fight a war in a place we had never even heard of...

Days came and went. The letters were full of wonderful
memories of his childhood and telling me to be sure and
cook his favorite foods and think of him...He wrote about the
endless rain that kept them walking in soggy field of rice ...
and the heat that was relentless ... and of the people who
were so distrustful because of the Americans.

He also wrote of his pride in our country...
of believing in what he was doing.

And once he wrote a letter that ripped my heart into...he wrote

"Mom...there are times when I am in the foxholes and
I feel like I am not going to come out. I don't want you
to worry though, Mom because I believe I am going
to come home...deep inside of me. I am coming home, Mom."

Never before had I thought much about soldiers until
my son put on his uniform. And then I began to pray for them all...
and when I would see one my heart would fill with love for them.
I did not know all the horrors they saw or the pain they felt
but I knew they were laying down their very lives for the country we live in.

I knew there was no greater love.
Soon the calendar in our kitchen was filled with marks.

We were counting the days ...
and then the letters which had been coming stopped.

A couple of weeks after the letters had stopped and
my heart was growing so heavy...
it hurt to breathe. A mother knows. I gave him life.
He grew inside my body...and I knew. A part of my soul had died...
I knew before the two men knocked on our door that morning.
I did not hear much of their words...
all I knew was my baby boy was gone.
And I knew that my world would never be the same.

Many years have come and gone since that day in '69.
But whenever I pass a soldier on the street or see one on TV,
I stop and pray...

"Dear God...bless that young man...
protect him and let him know how grateful we are
for what he does. For what he is doing for this nation...
bless His life, dear God. Please keep him safe and
let him return home safe and sound..."

Today I laid a wreath and a flag on my son's grave.
I could hear his words still even after all these years...
"Mama, I am coming home."
And he did ... not the way I had prayed but my son is
home-in a place where there is no more death or sadness.
And He is home in his mother's heart...with every breath I breathe.

Each time I sing, "Our Country 'tis of Thee...Sweet Land of Liberty,"
I see my son, I see mothers and fathers who have lost their children...
I see wives who lost their husbands...
I see children who lost their Dads ...
and I see a flag waving in the wind over a land that is free.

And I know the cost of that freedom...
God bless our veterans ... each and everyday.

May they always know the price they paid is not forgotten ...
and the land they fought to save ...
may freedom always ring!

But in history there's a chapter of a place called Valley Forge
Repeated one December on the Chosin Reservoir.

They had us all surrounded I could hear them scream and yell
My feelings at that moment No tongue could ever tell.

I saw the bursting mortar shells And the bullets around me flew
As all my strength had left me And all my courage too.

With the breaking of the morning Just before the dawn
I heard the sounding bugles And the big attack was on.

The cotton quilted uniforms Against our bullet spree
The screaming yelling banzai They called the human sea.

Baby faces bearded And chapped with hardenin' mud
Parkas that were dirty And stained with frozen blood.
Here a bunch of youngsters Who fought on 'til the end
In the battle of the Chosin Where boys were turned to men.
Twelve long miles of convoy Headed for the sea
Roadblocks at every turning Down through Koto-Ri.
The frost bite and the wounded With their dead and dying too
No matter what the objective be These boys were going through.

The Captain he informed us Perhaps he thought it right
That before we reach the river boys We're going to have to fight.

We're going out like Marines
In an organized withdraw
And no matter what the rumors say
It's no retreat at all.

We fought at least nine hours Before the strife was ore
And the like of the dead and wounded I've never seen before.

But the everlasting promise Kept along each bloody yard
No one leaves behind the wounded 'Cause there ain't no fight that hard.

The Chaplain collected dog tags In his hands were quite a few
There was Captain Smith's, McCloskies And Corporal Bryan's too.

And before we reached the river And fought our way back through
The Sergeant had the dog tags And he had the Chaplains too.

If I made you pause one moment And take a little time
Then I know it wasn't just in vain That I put these words to rhyme.

For there's just too many people Who take this all in stride
Who hear these tales of battles Then cast it all aside.

The nights were cold in the Korean soil But the night's been cold before
And it's not so hard in your own back yard To be set for peace or war

But in history there's a chapter of a place called Valley Forge
Repeated one December on the Chosin Reservoir.

Written by Frank Gross

The Ballad of Chosin was composed on December 29th 1950
and it is believed to be among the first ballads
to be composed on the war in Korea .

The Senrinels

You ancient, rusty relics- if you
could only tell
Your history and your legends, of
the battles and the hell.

You lie silent on those beaches,
where you formed a battle line,
Now decaying hulks of rusting steel
from a different place and time.

Ghostly figures man your turrets,
though the surf's the only sound.
Aye, your guns are long since si-
lenced, while the ground swells
rage and pound.

I close my eyes and visualize those
beachheads long ago,
When young Marines were fighting
through that surf and undertow

All too many never made it and, like
you, they shall remain
Silent sentinels at your turrets, while
the hourglass drops its grain.

Time, to you , is unimportant; You're
a monument to the past,,,
But your presence is a waning, if
again the die is cast.
Let no tyrant, King or ruler ever tam-
per with our land,
Lest you start your rusty engines,
and your gunners rise and stand.

May you never be forgotten; May the
old vets spread your fame,
For your colors still fly boldly, and
Old Glory still her name.

Carl Dearborn