by Cpl. Robert L. Cook
Jan. 42~Sept. 45
They say it ain't over,
As any fool can see,
They got a lot to do
'Fore it can ever be.
There's shootin'
In the streets,
There's blood
Upon the sand,
There is a frustration
In every native man.
He does not realize
As yet,
That we are here
To help him get
The thing that he
Has never had:
Freedom.
It takes a long, long time
To do
What we were sent
There to do:
Give back to this man
His own,
His own exalted land,
Where his forefathers
Took their stand
In centuries gone by.
The history of the world
Was born in this
Barren land,
The sand beneath his feet
Was trod by
Abraham and Isaac.
The civilizations
Of the world
Began with thoughts
Here unfurled,
To set man on
His troubled way
To reach the minds
That are today:
The leaders of this
Free, free world.
Impatient and ill at ease,
The liberated
Are not pleased.
Our efforts are not
Yet perceived
To be the promised
Pleasure.
We can only hope
And pray
That little gains
Along the way
Will bring to them
The promised measure.
Then may they have
The path made clear
By we who have borne
The brunt of battle.
Let the blood
That we have shed
Bring gratefulness
From all who
Are rewarded.
* * *
About the author: Robert Cook served with Reg. Weapons Co.(2d-2d) from 1942~44, at Guadalcanal
and Tarawa, during a 33-month overseas tour.
