by Cpl. Robert L. Cook
Jan. 42~Sept. 45
He sat in the sun
On an old park bench
Just watching the world go by.
He walked with a limp,
(Don't call him a gimp!)
He kept his cane near by.
His face was leathered,
Tan and weathered
From the years
He'd spent in the sun.
Beneath the sleeve
Of his old GI shirt
Was the emblem
That he wore proud.
The Eagle, Globe and Anchor,
Etched in his skin
And soul,
Was all he had
And he was glad
'Twas there for all to behold.
He was mustered out
And given his last
Chit.
He packed his gear,
Bid farewell to those dear,
Took a train
To the land of his
Youth.
His old friends know
Of his career,
Of the wars he'd fought
And endured.
Of the Purple Heart
And the Silver Star
And the time he had spent
In ranks.
Of the men he'd saved,
Kept them out of the grave
At the expense of a
Bullet-torn leg.
Now he sits without scorn
In the town where born
And tells stories
Of deeds long ago.
He holds his head high
For to those who pass by,
He's a Marine
And that they all know!
* * *
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.
