The Other Things We Carry
                    It's been 35 years since a Huey's whine
      And midnight missions in the nick of   time
                
      It's been 35 years since a claymore mine
      And ground   attacks so clear in your mind.
                
      And only yesterday it was   1969
                
      We carried Ammo, and Rockets, and beer, and mail
      We   carried body bags that would make you wail
      We carried friends in our   arms, as we turned pale
      We carried buckets of water to wash out blood   stale
                
      We carried medals of valor for feats unbelieved
      We   carried purple hearts for wounds we received
                
      But most of all we   carried each other
                
      Today we carry other things, some real, some   imagined
                
      We carry cancer of every kind known to man
      Agent   Orange poisoning,
           and Malaria,
           and   Lymphoma,
           and Diabetes,
           and Hepatitis   C,
           And many still have PTSD.
                
      We carry arms with no   hands,
           and legs with no feet,
           and scars both mental   and real.
      We carry crutches and walkers,
           and wheelchairs   and canes,
           with honor it's no big deal.
                
      We carry   horror stories of the Veterans Administration,
           of six months   waits,
           and lack of funds,
           and shoddy   care,
           of indifferent employees,
           and crummy   food,
           and broken promises
           and downright   lies.
                
      But we still carry each other
                
      We carry memories   from the past,
           and pictures of our youth
           and through   it all still have our dignity.
      For many it is all we have.
                
        Now and then, there are times when panic will set in and we have hideous   dreams,
      And people squeal,
           they twitch and make moaning   sounds,
           and cover their heads and say "Dear God",
             and hug the pillow and cringe and beg for the dreams to stop,
           and   make stupid promises to themselves and God and their wives,
           hoping   they will all go away,
           but they don't.
                
      But we still   carry each other.
                
      We carry the weight of shattered   dreams,
           and broken marriages,
           and deformed children   with insidious wounds,
           and twisted faces,
           and   deformed legs,
           and broken spines,
            lost for all   time.
                
      We carry the thoughts of the future,
           of honor   and duty,
           and pride,
           and tradition.
                
      We   carry fear for our children in far off lands,
      The outcome can only be   in Gods hands
                
      The midnight   runs as the Huey whines,
      The rescue missions in the nick of   time,
                
      The muffled blast of a claymore mine,
      And only   yesterday it was 1969.
                
      But we still carry each other.
Ron Leonard
            "Wars don't   determine who wins, they only determine who is left"