by Cpl. Robert L. Cook
Jan. 42~Sept. 45
I went to visit a buddy
From many years ago;
He was from my division,
His age he did show.
He doesn't hear
Too good today,
His eyes are not too sharp.
But he remembers
Every detail
Since the day
That he did start.
He remembers things
So clearly
That I have long forgot,
About the little things
That makes a happening
So distinctly stand out.
Like going down a cargo net
And missing the last step,
Or having fingers
Stepped upon
While going down the net,
Or packing sand
In a bucket
From the beach
When he was just a boot.
He remembers being in a fight
When the ammo
Was running low,
And taking from the wounded
To carry on the show.
Sharing water
With a buddy
Whose canteen
Had been plugged,
And later on
Wrapped him in his
Poncho
'Cause he had
Caught a slug.
The years he spent
In civvies
As a postwar
Working man
Of working like a demon
So he could raise his kids.
Now he sits and wonders
How he did it all.
So time, that great healer,
Will take us by the hand
And lead us to
A better place
And we will understand
The why's and all
The what for's
Of why we are
A man.
* * *
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.
