Roy's Place

AKA:...Pleiku Roy...

This page is to showcase the poetry/writings/or memories of Pleiku Roy, a Brother. Roy is unknown to me, except over the net and through our communications by E-mail. He was stationed at Pleiku, South Vietnam, and the Artillery Battery there often fired support for my unit. I have a bond with Roy and this is my way of showing my gratitude. His poetry on this page describe his perspectives of the Lessons of R.V.N.

Dave/11bravovet Army R.V.N. 3 20, 1998

"My Gift to Roy"

My Wall

Small in the distance but it was clearly in sight,
As I walked down the path in the cold and the rain.
My body shivered, the cold, and the memories,
As soon we came to The Wall,
The Memorial, so stark, so plain.

Just sheets of granite with the names of people.
People I didn't know, yet I knew them all too well.
I reached and touched,
Just laid my hand on the Wall.
And I cried! Why am I here?
Where is my name?

What brought me home,
The answer is with God and luck
A question for all time.
Some came home...Some did not.

.....Unfinished to Roy.....

"The Golden Age of Innocence--Once lived and then Lost Forever"

I grew up in the Golden fifties, everything back then was new.
Rock, greasers, and 57 Chevies..there wasn't anything we couldn't do.

Hot rod Fords and street drag races,
New boobs growing in cashmere sweaters.
The thrill of youth that showed on faces,
That easily laughed at serious matters.

Saturday night sock hop dances
Slow dancing with your steady girl
Sneaking peeks at other girls
Thinking maybe next, I'll give her a whirl.

Oh, we had our gangs, punks, and hoods
But everything was settled just by fist.
Honor was always avenged as well it should
But black eyes, not death, topped the list.

Mellow days and careless nights
Drive-in movies, who watched the show?
The heavy petting and then the fights
"You're my steady, but that far I won't go!"

The slow drive back to take her home
The sweet goodnight kiss outside her door
The fervent promise that I'd never roam
The secret wish she'd give me more!

Life was tough and hard to take, back then
Or so we thought, but soon would learn
Boys grow up becoming men
And go places where men die, and bodies burn

It all happened so suddenly!
A heartbeat, a blink of an eye
It all happened so viciously
One day to live, next to die!

Nubile boobs in cashmere sweaters
Hot rod Fords and street drag races
And then began the home-bound letters
"We Regret"..were all the traces.

Left of lives that once lived for life
Those that did come home to peace
Now live with lives full of strife
And only wish the pain would cease.

Pleiku Roy 3 20, 1998

"Where do You Go?"

Where do you go when you are scared?
When flares and tracers fill the night air?

You're down in your hole, huddling low
The incoming thumps, the small arms crack
You keep an eye out for the bad guys to show
And you pray your buddies are watching your back.

Where do you go when you are scared?
You go inward, to a time and a place far away
There is a feeling that I believe we all shared
When you do your damnedest to hold fear at bay.

Chuck is out there, and this time is it
There are more of him then there are of you
And he's creeping closer...bit by bit
As the flashes get closer..your fear grew

Where do you go when you're scared?
You go inward, and outward, and out of your mind
There is no place to go, your self has been bared
You're stuck in this hole, and you'll stare till you're blind.

Looking for the first clear target to shoot
You pray there are less than the rounds in your magazine
It takes time to reload, and you might fumble to boot
And time you don't have, against the oncoming, deadly unseen.

Where do you go when you're scared?
Nowhere my friend...you don't go nowhere!

Pleiku Roy 3 20, 1998

"A REMF's Prayer"

A silly ditty done in rhyme, Part serious, part sublime.
But mostly just asinine, I hope this is not a crime.:)

Now I lay me down to sleep,
With prayers that Chuck won't leap,
Over the wire or under creep,
And from incoming, not a peep.

Just one long unbroken night,
With no waking with a fright.
With no fearful imagined sight,
Just one night would be all right.

But as I lay there and did this dream,
Came the inbound with a scream.
Nights like this can make you mean,
No rest from War it would seem.

You grab your jacket, boots, and pot,
M-16 and all the rest you got.
"Damn this crap" is a passing thought,
As you wish that Chuck would rot.

Out the hooch and down the bunker,
For an hour you just hunker.
To say you're mad, couldn't be blunter,
Another night has been blown asunder.

Eventually the all clear sounds,
The relief from all now abounds.
Perhaps tonight no more incoming rounds,
Such nights form justifiable grounds.

For a deep seated hatred of the War,
Not for the cause for which I was sure.
But for the fear and death and more,
War does not conform to the stuff of lore.

War is dirty, it's hard, and it hurts,
It kills without mercy both shirts and skirts.
This wasn't what I expected, the private blurts,
I'm sorry my son, but that's the way War works.

Pleiku Roy 3 21, 1998

E-mail Roy...roy@widomaker.com...

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