"Home. It's not far away.": by John Puzzo

Home.  It's not far away
by John Puzzo

The shadows are lengthening for me.
I listen with thirsty ear 

for days gone past, 

where faint bugles sound Reveille 

over the cold, damp marsh
And call the Last Post 

over the mournful sounds 

of battlefields grown distant.
I'm just going home. 

It's not far, just close by...
my friends are there, 

mother and father, too.
Jesus is the door.
Don't be sad...that's not me, 

lying there. I am already gone.
At the shore of the river 

the boatman waits for his coin.
I shall not disappoint him.
Across the other side 

Sentinels watch for to welcome me,
and as they all were called, beckon
“Brother, home my brother. 

The load you bore is left 

for others to carry, yet over there…
So hang your cap upon this tree
and wait not long, You Sentinel.
In time you, too will see
another coming to these gates…
That others will be free.”

“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you feel comfortable sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history, sharing the truth about the Vietnam veteran, and what it was like in Our War.

The Sentinel at the Gates: by John Puzzo

The Sentinel at the Gates

The Sentinel At the Gates

Alumni et Patriae Asto © John Puzzo 2002

Without them Standing Sentinel,

as ever must they be,
not one American would be free.

I know they're all still out there,

together evermore,
From the Continental Army 

or maybe long before

When the 1st American casualty fell,

on these now ancient shores.

They wear tri corner hats, 

coonskin caps and kepis,
wide-brimmed Western cowboy hats, 

helmets and berets.

But no matter what they wear,
They belong to us.
It is from us they came
Through distant mists of time and place.

They’ve come and gone to stand and wait

and come they will,

To the Sentinels at the gates.

Father, son, husband, brother,
Important things these are,
But to stand with men of honor,
Is a better thing by far.

For without such men of honor,
ready to give their most,
what father, son, or brother,
would be left with any hope,

That there would be tomorrow 

for this Nation proud?
Lest men as these we find, 

fit America for a shroud.

Yes there they all are waiting, 

they’re all together now.
From every war and conflict, 

shot and shell they found.

At peace, eternal wait they now,
On holy, hallowed ground.

How can we ever thank them, 

these selfless angels past?

Thanks are but such trifling things

Instead we must dedicate
our every waking moment

…To the Sentinels at the gate,

For there they all stand waiting,
watching how well we do.

Will we let slip away,
That which they loved so well?

Their full measured honored duty,
Will we so cheaply sell?

Yes there they all stand waiting,
All together now,

They know some soldier stands at ready.
He will show them how.

Then they’ll welcome him 

as they once all were called:

“Brother, home my brother, 

See your name upon this wall?

You have done what was your duty.

The load you proudly carried 

is left for them to bear,
those others over there.

“So take your place beside us, 

hang your cap upon this tree.
And wait not long, you Sentinel.

In time you too will see
others coming to these gates,

That America will be…free.”


[Written for the Memorial Day Project, 

National Cemetery at Arlington, in 2003] 

John Puzzo

John J. Puzzo
K Company (Ranger)
75th Infantry (Airborne)
United States Army 1968 - 1971

Other Articles by John Puzzo:

Poem, "Waves"
Humor in Vietnam
The Lantern


“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you feel comfortable sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history, sharing the truth about the Vietnam veteran, and what it was like in Our War.

Poem: "Waves", by John Puzzo

Please play the video while you read ...

Waves

by John Puzzo

They are like the waves washing on shore,

58,237 of them. 

They just keep coming from way out there, 

until they wash up over your feet

and gently remind you of who they are

and who they were.

Sometimes the storms come 

and the waves are not so gentle.

That’s when they’re grabbing us, and shaking us,

to make us remember.

Then they slide back into the ocean.

But they’ll be back.

They never really left.

Sometimes they leave something behind

and it takes your breath away.

“Here comes mine. There he is.”

And just as quickly he comes to 

Fill your heart again, reaching you there 

on the shore.

Then he recedes once again. Back into the sea. 

58,237 others are making their way back to the shore

to meet theirs.

It takes a long time for 58,237 waves 

to come against the shores of our memory, 

where we wait to greet them.

But that’s alright. They’ll be back.

They don’t ever really leave us.

It would be like the sea itself suddenly evaporating.

They are the sea.

Those who only knew them on these shores,

the ones who sent them off –

“Be Safe. I will miss you. Write to me? 

Let me know if you need anything.”

And you never forget that face. 

Out there in the sea, with others of his kind 

he looks back at you,

still there, on the shore, with your feet in the sand.

You are the last thing he sees, too.

They share something very precious 

in the sea of sacrifice where they live now.

The ocean will never die. 

It will keep sending them back to us

to remember.

Waves.

Add caption

John J. Puzzo

K Company (Ranger)

75th Infantry (Airborne)

United States Army 1968 - 1971

John is the published author of two books about Vietnam.  He is a brilliant public speaker, and an all-around good guy from Connecticut.  

"The Highlanders In the Viet Nam War"

"Vietnam and Hollywood"

Other Articles by John Puzzo:

Humor in Vietnam

The Lantern

“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale

Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you feel comfortable sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history, sharing the truth about the Vietnam veteran, and what it was like in Our War.

Humor in Vietnam: by John Puzzo

John Puzzo

Things happen that make us aware of our humanity, even in the demanding world of an Army Ranger.

Nothing illustrates that better than when peculiar and strange things happened -- things that could have occurred in no other setting than a long-range patrol in the Highlands. They became all the more memorable for that very reason ...

Nicknames ...

I remember once, when lightning struck the side of a mountain where a team had set up an ambush. 

The lightning set off all of the Claymore mines the team had set, arced through the radio, down the handset held by our Lieutenant, and then exited through his jungle boots, singeing his skivvies, and leaving his hair smoking. 

'Lightning Bolt' was none the worse for wear, except for a new nickname, a few minor bruises, and some burnt hair, but the team had to be extracted because the radio was cooked.

On another mission, a team went on high alert and everyone grabbed the clackers to their Claymores, when the guy on night watch heard footsteps coming into their night position just before dawn. 

He roused the team, brought up the artillery net, air assets were mustered for gunship support and extraction and, just before things were about to get noisy, a rooster clucked into view.

We might have eaten the feathery beast under other circumstances. The whole experience earned our high alert team member the nickname: "Rooster".

Both Ways

by David Hamm

I joined the LRRP's in October, 1968. One of the ways we relieved the tension, boredom, and sometimes sheer terror of how we lived was through humor, often directed at ourselves. I can think of these things, even to this day and it makes me smile.

One of the incidents involved a Green Beret named Foster, who was assigned to our unit for a while. 

Our team was taking a break during a mission and monitoring the radio, when we heard Foster call Zero in a highly excited state. He said their team had found a high-speed trail that looked like it was heavily used. 

When the RTO back at Zero tried to get the location of the trail, there was a long pause. Foster didn't seem to understand what information was wanted and kept repeating that it was a high-speed trail.

Finally, the RTO got through to him by asking him which way the trail went. There was another long pause ... and Foster replied excitedly, "It goes both ways."

The RTO could hardly contain himself and asked him to say again which way the trail went. "Both ways! The trail goes both ways, sir."

By this time, our team was literally rolling on the ground, laughing (silently, of course). After this, when someone would ask you where you were going, you said, "Both ways, both ways."

John J. Puzzo
K Company (Ranger)
75th Infantry (Airborne)
United States Army 1968 - 1971

[Excerpts from the book, "The Highlanders In the Vietnam War", which was written by my good friend, John J. Puzzo. If you haven't read John's book yet, I suggest that you do.].

Other Articles by John Puzzo:

Poem, "Waves"
The Lantern

“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do. And by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale

Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you feel comfortable sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history, sharing the truth about the Vietnam veteran, and what it was like in Our War.

The Lantern: by John Puzzo

John Puzzo

I didn’t even realize until I was doing it. It was just my turn, I guess.  I found myself inspecting the new guys’ rucksacks and weapons load prior to a 3-day mission up to the north and west of Kontum.

By summer, 1970, the NVA were pouring down the Ho Chi Minh trail at the rate of about 22,000 soldiers per month and thousands were crossing the border into South Vietnam from their base sanctuaries in Laos and Cambodia.

We were sending some teams up there to pick a few of them off. The weather was bad, so I told everyone to pack rations for 7 days. I think we were there longer than that.

When we got there, the weather on the mountain closed in right away and it stayed that way, so it was a good thing we packed extra rations. We were also at altitude, which affected the weather. It rained a lot and there was thick fog all the time.

We were pulling radio relay for several Hawkeye teams hunting NVA in the valley below. Because of where they were, we had to be in a line of sight to get their radio transmissions, which meant we couldn’t move much. The enemy would know that.

At about day three after nightfall, we heard voices in the darkness and movement coming our way. We thought they had found us.

I got Zero on the net for support and so the good guys could come get us the hell out of there, knowing that finding us at night and in all that soup would be difficult. We were on the outcropping of a ridge line facing the valley below and had nowhere to go but down, or to fight our way out if they hit us, and there were a hell of a lot more of them.

Then they were right on top of us -- and they were noisy. One NVA soldier had a lantern that he shined at us through the thick foliage. He was looking between the rocks and trees right at us but incredibly, he didn’t see us.

Saunders, who was on his second mission with me, I think was on one knee with his M-16 about a foot away from the guy’s face while I whispered in his ear not to shoot unless he came through. I was hoping he wouldn’t smell us.

For what seemed an eternity, the NVA soldier, whose face I could see in the greenish light his lantern reflected off the leaves, peered through the dense foliage right into Saunders’ and my face, and the rest of the team behind us.

The other NVA were talking behind him and poking around everywhere. One of them gave a shout and they started to move away. The guy with the lantern just backed off.

I had Grau and Gomez with me on that mission. It was their first mission as Rangers. They were killed later that year while serving on other teams.

A few days later the weather cleared, the mission was over, and we were alerted that the choppers were coming to get us out. The Black Jack slicks and Gambler gunship escorts of the 4th Aviation Battalion were in the air.

We didn’t just think they were the best chopper pilots and gunship crews in Vietnam -- we believed they ate at God’s mess hall ...

John J. Puzzo
K Company (Ranger)
75th Infantry (Airborne)
United States Army 1968 - 1971

[Excerpt from the book, "The Highlanders In the Vietnam War", which was written by my good friend, John J. Puzzo. If you haven't read John's book yet, I suggest that you do.].

Other Articles by John Puzzo:

Poem, "Waves"
Humor in Vietnam

“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do. And by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale

Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you feel comfortable sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history, sharing the truth about the Vietnam veteran, and what it was like in Our War.