LETTERS FROM HOME

I went to war in Vietnam Nam
Without a single friend.
I went because they said I had
A country to defend.

The propaganda built us up
And helped us through each night
By telling us how brave we were,
And that our cause was right.

The letters that I got from home
Put doubt into my mind.
The people we were fighting for
Were suddenly unkind.

We started to withdraw into
Our squads of ten or less
Young men who helped each other through
The problems and distress.

We started to lose faith in all
The things we had been told.
The letters that we got from home
Had started to turn cold.

Your squad was men whom you could trust
To help you through each day,
And when you went on night patrols,
You helped each other pray.

We knew each other’s weaknesses
And tried to work them out,
For if you’re in a firefight
You can’t afford to doubt.

We shared each other’s secrets and
We knew each other’s name,
But now the letters sent from home
Began to speak of shame.

We went into the field again
To try to find our foe.
Instead they found us first, and we
Received a fatal blow.

The first two men within our squad
Were shot; both men were dead.
The rest of us sought shelter from
The sudden fear and dread.

A man off to the right stepped out
To toss out a grenade.
The rest of us watched him get shot,
And as we watched, we prayed.

We tried returning fire at
Our dreaded enemy,
But it’s so hard to kill someone
That you can’t even see.

I saw another man go down
With blood upon his chest,
But I continued running on,
Ahead of all the rest.

We found some shelter in the trees,
Caruthers, Stone, and me.
We started out with nine young men,
But now there’s only three.

The mortars opened up ahead
And brought us some relief.
A squad came up to give support,
And left us to our grief.

Our friends lay dead while others tried
To even up the score,
But letters they received from home
Won’t hurt them anymore.

Aug. 23, 1982