by James W. Stockton

He died for you at Bunker Hill,
at Concord and Lexington too.
He froze and bled at Valley Forge
to rid his land of the oppressor’s shoe.
He died beside Jackson at N'Orleans,
with Travis at the Alamo and
with Scott down in Mexico
to preserve the Texas win
and then he died, brother to brother,
in a war that should never have been.

He died for the world at Belleau Wood
and drove the Boche from France.
He joined them in ‘41
again to fight the hun,
Pearl Harbor, Midway and Corregidor,
his dying again begun.
It wouldn’t stop till he took the war
clear to Japan’s front door,
he hoped he’d fought to end all wars,
he hoped to die no more. . .

But war clouds always gather
wherever warriors abide:
Grenada, Mogadishu and Iraq
and in Afghanistan they died.
Now it’s up to us, the living,
to remember them with pride.
Let’s remember them because. . .
It was for us he died. . .

*     *     *
The author: James W. Stockton was a gunner with C Co., 5thTkBn, 5thMarDiv on Iwo Jima Feb-Mar 1945, as well as other posts throughout the Corps during
a 20-year stint.

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