Years Ago

The draft was fair or so they say;

The rich, the educated, got to stay.

Off to a war we could never win;

Being naïve, our only sin.

My drill was a Vet, over and over he’d yell;

“Learn quickly young troop or you’ll burn in hell.”

He was hardcore all the way; he made us the best;

He was as proud of us as the medals on his chest.

“You’re going to the ‘Nam, you should be proud.”

It scared me even more when I heard it out loud.

My buddies became nervous as graduation grew near;

I was shaking real bad, motivated by fear.

I went home on leave, my uniform looking cool;

To some I was a patriot, to others a fool.

I raised my hand, I answered the call:

Now I rest in peace, my name on the wall.

Michael D. Monfrooe

1994