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Wolf & Eagle: "Spirit Brothers"
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You may have noticed, in the past poetry I have written, there are several referances to The Wolf and The Eagle. There is underlying reason and purpose to those passages. They speak of two friends that were mine in South VietNam. They have followed my every footstep for 28 years. They are as much a part of me as the blood that courses through my veins and pounds in my temples. They came to me again on an afternoon two days ago.
Several days have passed since my friend Jeff Parrett called me on the phone to say that he had seen an Eagle in a tree close to his home. Several days also have passed since my wife and I were the guests at the home of Dennis and Connie Hoff. Their neighbor across the way has a beautiful wolf dog, that I vowed to take a picture of, and place on The Nature Page of Poetry in this web-site.
Also two days ago, I had received an invitation to visit with a long lost friend, Gary Blanquie. All of these people reside in the beautiful McKenzie River area known as Deer Horn valley. So I had hit the trifectra--I could take my pictures of the Wolf and the Eagle--and still have time to visit a friend.
I must tell you now the significance of The Wolf and The Eagle.
I referred to him as The Wolf. He was American Indian, a member of my squad, along with The Eagle, another member and close friend.
This is not pretty--turn away if you must..........
I am an Infantryman...they were Infantrymen. We were on a patrol in the Central Highlands of VietNam, which happens to be in the middle of the jungle. It was terribly hot, muggy, dirty, insect infested, and terrifying for those so young, involved in an unpopular War in the 60's and early 70's.
The Wolf was walking point, ever alert. The Eagle carried a radio, ever watchful. The backyard jungle is the Viet Cong's playground. It swallowed us, never to be spit out---- just rechewed again, and again, and again.
I can still feel the ground tremble...hear the pounding concussion...see lives slip through my fingers...screams through the night. I should have remembered that the R.T.O. is a prime target. He carries your radio, your life blood to artillery, medivac, gunships, and help. My one slip in time...was to have the R.T.O. that far forward, for I was the squad leader..the SSG...the responsible party.
I don't remember how long we were in that ambush. It started with a command detonated 155 round under the feet and legs of the lead section of our patrol. It ended with the screams of agony and loss amid support fire from a Cobra gunship overhead. It left a tremendous imprint on the minds of those 4 who survived. A tremendous loss..tremendous guilt..and a tremendous haunting.
I have been witness to, a thousand times, the sight of Eagle squeezing off the spurt of blood from the artery where something had blown most of his left arm off. In shock, he ran towards me, happily exclaiming, "I'm going home, Sarge."
He never made it home. He died there in my arms that day. He wasn't aware that he had also been shot through the chest. I do remember the words that bubbled in froth from his lips when he died..... Any Veteran of combat has heard them..... once too often....
The Wolf, mercifully, had died much quicker. He was almost dead center over the round. I don't need to explain that sight to you, and couldn't anyway.
[Who made the choices, who drew the names. Why them, and why not me?]
In the words of Edna St. Vincent Milay
[For my omnipotence..paid I toll. In infinite remorse of soul.]
Now....they come back. Now in this valley of
I failed to get my picture of the Eagle. Too late to capture the Wolf on film in darkness. I had spent the afternoon visiting the most perfect piano master I have heard...Gary Blanquie. His home sits on a hill overlooking a meadow through the trees, with the River below. His music makes you set down your glass of wine and listen intently. His comment, as I gazed through the trees to the Meadow below, "You should see the beauty of spring." Little did he know that it was here now. His beautiful wife, Judy, came home from work, and sat with us. We were listening to the tape of another local artist..Larry Barkemeyer..country ballad..., combat Veteran. Sitting on the couch, I looked up and saw The Wolf & The Eagle..... This is not fiction..... They were telling me finally, that it's Ok. I broke into tears and wept. Two Angels had come and stilled my heartache, stilled my fears, stilled my haunting, and nightmares.
They had planned this...to draw me in ...unaware...unsuspecting. Gary had been the medium, the Spirit Brother. His music and his home... the Cathedral.
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Has one small thing in your life
ever caused you to replay in mind
Then perhaps, what some say, it's happened before
just the same
Just some other time.
I've felt so strange, not all at once
but those times in my life
stand out well.
But 'Some other Time' bothers me when
Not sure if it's happening,
can't tell.
No, I'm not troubled.I have charge of my wits
But there's one thing I'll never do
I'll never stop saying , just what I feel.
'Cause I know that it's happened to you.
All that I'm trying to do when I write
let you see this man in my mirror
When you open your heart to the feelings within
What reason, What question
To fear?
Be always the first
Do not wait for others to forgive
For by forgiving
You become the master of fate
The fashioner of life
The door of miracles.
To forgive is the highest
Most beautiful form of love,
In return you will receive
Untold Peace and Happiness.
Quite by accident, she knew my past, her voice brought me to a knee.
In broken English, she ask me now, to look at what she reads.
And taken aback I search her eyes, to try to feel the needs.
She hands me a book of history, of Vietnam and it's War.
And as I thumb through pages..numbness, creeps over a heart still sore.
I show her on the map inside, where I was once and why.
And this veteran Soldier..feels the lump, a tear forming in his eye.
She is not quite 26 and speaks of escaping there.
Her father jailed, her family torn, and some she knows not where.
A simple statement she makes to me, I understand her needs.
She says it was important to Americans..and there fore now she reads.
I try valiantly to force back tears, and thank her that she is here.
And shake the hand of one so young, that has conquered every fear.
I do not know how this came to pass, I do not question why.
But I will never forget this day,
No matter how hard I try.
Are you so Macho.. you can never sob, to show the feeling tears?
Can you fight back memories, and push them down again?
To resurface and destroy you..and consume you from within.
Do you think that no one cares at all?
Do you think there is no friend?, Gun barrel to the temple, echoing another sin.
Then go ahead and pull the trigger, You've given up on me.
For I will never have the chance, to show you what I see.
Because I've been to where you are now, I can tell you this.
Don't end a life...with so much hope...
Around the corner....Bliss!
!.....HANG ON KEITH.....!
The ground is trembling as he walks, he sees the eyes of friends.
He hears the cries on a misted day, he feels his heart pound fast.
Encountering again the pain of death, blood soaked they breathe their last.
A poem from T.S.Elliot repeats it's lines to see,
a poem of Universal sight..written I think ..for me.
The misted sky is closing in, It's not so very grand.
He traces the names upon the Wall, too weak now just to stand.
And touching their face for one last time, in turn they touch him so.
He places a small flag at their feet, and turning he must go.
The pain inside..so very great, has eased somewhat today,
The Soldier knows that he must go, to heal in a special way.
And that way is unique to him, it closes off the past.
And seals his heart from all that hurts,
None ever to trespass.
Drink in the view before your eyes, and see what's there to see.
Concentrate on only Bliss, shut out surrounding world.
And listen to your inner self, transfixing thoughts unfurled.
For here is Peace away from all, some think a lonely man.
But with your Heart ..you tell it all, as no other Soldier can.
You cheat The Reaper who governs us, not yet afraid to die.
Your final resting place...well known, Behind the endless sky.
The days here in micro-seconds pass, but what you do is right.
And thoughts flow freely from the Pen, long into the night.
Your contribution settled...your mission here and now.
Live the Life that you were taught,
And show just One ..Just How.
