Later returning to Vietnam independently in order to study Vietnamese oral folk poetry, he spent a total of nearly three years in the war zonelearning to speak Vietnamese fluently and even getting wounded on one occasionand he is as much a veteran of Vietnam as any soldier I have evermet. But it is probably safe to say that no politician or general ever waged war without offering some higher moral reason for doing so. Marines died in the jungles of South Vietnam While outside of country, the world moved on. Balaban is an anomaly: a soldier-poet who was not a soldier; indeed, he opposed the war and became a conscientious objector. In addition, we included selections of articles, audio resources, and online databases to further provide context for these important works of empowerment, heroism, and reckoning. All of which was compounded by the fact that each soldier went to Vietnam alone and unheralded, and those who survived came home alone to an alien landindifferent or even hostile to themwhere the war continued to rage no farther away than the nearest television set or newspaper, or the nearest street demonstration. The whiteness of the branches Next months harvest is hordes of hungry beetles. Scruggs was the driving force behind the Wall, made of black granite panels inscribed with the names of the more than 58,000 U.S. troops killed in Vietnam. Moments later, a mine exploded. How can peace be in a greencountry? CBS News national security correspondent David Martin asked Duffy, Lots of soldiers have written memoirs about their time in combat. a reminder of my wartime strife. The whir of birds' wings . This months harvest is tall green rice. Its called The Battle for Charlie,' the name of a fire base blocking the North Vietnamese invasion route into the central highlands at the start of their 1972 Easter offensive. Herbert Krohn, a former Army doctor, exhibits particular sensitivity and sympathy for the Vietnamese. Pasture unfolding before us can denyit. The poems collected here range from mournful elegies to impassioned protests, yet and nearly all struggle with processing the meaning and scope of the conflict. all those pierced eyes, ear slivers, jaw splinters, A company of NVAs crashing toward you he could promise Worst of all, as time passed, it became obvious even to the most nave 18-year-old that the war was goingnowhere. It is as if time has finally allowed Weigl to accept the emotions buried in the subconscious and the implications of what he has done and been a part of. Along with Virgil Suarez and Victor Hernandez Cruz, Quintana co-editedPaper Dance: 55 Latino Poets. There are some things which cannot be learned quickly, and time, which is all we have, must be paid heavily for their acquiring. Merwin, the Vietnam War remains a cultural milestone in citizen involvement. You are twenty-three. tell them shove it, theyre not here, tell them kiss There is no gold for him but the sergeant is a stateside G.I. With some notable exceptions, they were artless poems, lacking skill and polish, but collectively they had the force of a wreckingball. In The Sound of Guns, hewrites: At the university in town "A Vietnam Vet at The Wall" and ""He Was a Vietnam Vet" by Susan Raye White "A Soldier's Pledge" by Lynn Hughes "Bob" by Lt. William P. Brandt, Forward Observer, Vietnam "The Wounded Are The Lucky" by Rikki Duncan "I Can't Come Home" by M.L.Carte "Perspective of the Vietnam Memorial" by Judy/T. Fink ended up spending a year in Vietnam. googletag.cmd = googletag.cmd || []; Leroy V. Quintana, a native New Mexican, served in Vietnam in the Army Airborne and a Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol unit in 1967-68. Your poem gives a strong voice for those affected by war. only a little more than a yard away. floating in urine, a rat carrying a banjo, rhapsody, This famous poem was written here in Huntington. Photo by PhotoQuest/Getty Images. in Nhatrang, in 1962, we just did ourjobs[.]. speaking French And your platoon moves out without you, One might argue ad infinitum about what constitutes valid moral justification for any given war. a way to throw off thedead. You chose to write poetry. Every time weve broke out trying to leave here, we got fired upon., One pilot informs him he is low on fuel and has to leave. falling in slowmotion[.]. While Balabans poems offer little comfort, they have much to teach. Best of all, poets like Weigl and Balaban are still young and still producing. The average age of American soldiers in Vietnam was 19-and-a-half (in World War II it had been 26). But we'll hear his tales no longer, for ol' Bob has passed away. from North Vietnam, mines strapped to their chests: was a pack, and it takes cruelty to make any friends never! *** Of the dozen or so poems Paquet contributes, three or four must rank as among the very best Vietnam war poems yet written. the rest, all old counting the year/in days, . O for tonight Perhaps because he has come to terms with the worst, he can also now remember with a certain amusement The Girl They had grown up in the shadow of their fathers generation, the men who had fought the good war from 1941 to 1945. Except for that, The time made him, in his words, more serious and played a subtle role in his decision to become a priest. But retired Green Beret John Duffy turned his trial-by-fire into an epic poem of the Vietnam War. Perhaps just a simple headline, in the paper that might say: To all our Soldiers past and present, God Bless, Glory to the American Flag, long may she wave, So many have been covered with her when they've, So many of us have taken for granted that our, We tend to forget those who have kept that, While some of us sit at home and refuse to, While a Soldier pushes that aside to continue, Some sit around and complain about the food, While you sit around and complain about what, Remember what a Soldier somewhere for you is, A Soldier stands tall and proud and ready for, In Our Hearts, In Our Prayers, In Our Minds For All Time. like sillowy seeds of milkweed pod, Beautiful with herfacts. Ehrhart, the rebel son of a minister who had . His MorningA Death is a masterpiece, capturing at once the new, sophisticated battlefield medicine of Vietnam and the ancient, ageless human misery and futility of allwars: You are dead just as finally It wont matter then to me but now In Eating the Forest, he speaks of soldiers/trained to sleep/where the moon sinks/and bring the darkness home[. our hands around. But there is finally here, in these poems, a remarkable promise of hope, a refusal to forget the past and go on, willfully oblivious to history or the lessons that ought to have been learned. So Let the Flags of Freedom Fly Unfurled in Their Majesty High: In the Sun, In the Rain In the Winds Across This Land, Years of Tears Has Brought Us Here Gathering Around to Hear This Sound, In the Sun, In the Rain, In the Winds Across This Land, In the Sun, In the Rain, In the Winds For All Time, The Rods and Wire of Steel at my Core are. Where the Unknown Soldier lies, And the flowers there are sprinkled. I know what it is like to be so afraid. Next time I see you I owe you a big bottle of scotch. if(typeof ez_ad_units!='undefined'){ez_ad_units.push([[300,250],'sandhillsexpress_com-large-mobile-banner-1','ezslot_0',117,'0','0'])};__ez_fad_position('div-gpt-ad-sandhillsexpress_com-large-mobile-banner-1-0');if(typeof ez_ad_units!='undefined'){ez_ad_units.push([[300,250],'sandhillsexpress_com-large-mobile-banner-1','ezslot_1',117,'0','1'])};__ez_fad_position('div-gpt-ad-sandhillsexpress_com-large-mobile-banner-1-0_1');if(typeof ez_ad_units!='undefined'){ez_ad_units.push([[300,250],'sandhillsexpress_com-large-mobile-banner-1','ezslot_2',117,'0','2'])};__ez_fad_position('div-gpt-ad-sandhillsexpress_com-large-mobile-banner-1-0_2');.large-mobile-banner-1-multi-117{border:none!important;display:block!important;float:none!important;line-height:0;margin-bottom:15px!important;margin-left:auto!important;margin-right:auto!important;margin-top:15px!important;max-width:100%!important;min-height:250px;min-width:300px;padding:0;text-align:center!important}. Papers tell of their life stories, from the time that they were young. Former medic Brown is particularly interesting, having remained in the Army from 1968 to 1977, and one can only wonder why he stayed in and why he got out. Like the Wall, Scruggs said, Finks poem addresses the loss that so many veterans felt and still feel. women and kids in shacks . silly hats she sells Americans and The battle raged back and forth. After being met with years of protest, demonstrations, and activism, including the objections of many notable poets and artists, such as Denise Levertov, Allen Ginsberg, and W.S. Absent are the dreams and illusions, the surreality. a procession of whales, and far off Zambia. when blood was spilled on my 214. bloody papers I carry through life. One night frightening scores of them But the appearance in 1984 of D.F. Who likes blood and gore. They were written by military veterans, former reporters, refugees, and civilians. destined to live my life with stress. - Harlan Coben. To think of killing someone makes me nervous. Like its predecessor, DMZ contained much that relied on emotion rather than craft. a kite, a mannikin playing the guitar, recruiter, Some of these poems are very personal and dark while others are lighter, but I wanted to make them available to the public as an educational tool to everyone who is interested. damn, The jungle/loaded, nobody/comes away in one piece. And in Coming Home, henotices: Someone has stacked his books, President Joe Biden shakes hands with retired U.S. Army Major John J. Duffy, after awarding him the Medal of Honor for his actions in the Vietnam War, during a ceremony in the East Room of the White House in Washington, D.C., July 5, 2022. was ourvillage. He served as a correspondent during the conflict, and some of his descriptions of battle . After our war, the dismembered bits Equally important was a new anthology, Demilitarized Zones (East River Anthology), co-edited by Jan Barry and a second WHAM contributor. Barth's new book, Learning War: Selected Vietnam War Poems, called "De Bello," that reads:The troops deploy. Because of his unique situation, however, Balaban brings to his poetry a perspective unlike any other. This was not the first appearance of poems dealing with the Vietnam war to be written by soldiers who helped to fight that war. // cutting the mustard I have thumped and blown into your kind too often. In Vietnam I prayed fervently see the flash of the muzzles. CBS News, Throughout this poem, you dont seem to have any hatred of the enemy?, No, no. You did a good job. God Past the olive drab We were home finally going home. Ruthless: Monopoly's Secret History (espaol). Christian Langworthy. What else can we do? Oct. 7, 2012. Only now I cant fly. that swirls upon her face but cannot blink is to clean up all the troubles, that the politicians start. "God Has Pity on Kindergarten Children" by Yehuda Amichai. Danger came from unexpected places. I am of the same generation as Harris, the courageous draft resister and anti-war campaigner who died on February 6. book "FOOT clockwise: me, Nina, Shamik with Paahi, Krishna, Sonal (Mohit's clicking), India: Calls for Khalistan justified based on Hindu Rashtra demand highlight threat of religious politics | SN Sahu, FOOTPRINTS IN THE BAJRA a "first in Indian writing in English". but it never destroyed him., They cursed and killed and wept God knows, Pvt. like tiny glaciers. Torture, assault and battery, malicious destruction, murder and mayhemthe very things young Americans had always been taught only the enemy didwere widespread and tacitly or openly sanctioned. In Mines, hewrites: Here is how you walk at night: slowly lift on a rain soaked day such as this. But if some of the non-Vietnam poems occasionally reveal the graduate student laboring to flex his intellectual muscle, they also reveal the poets ability to transcend Vietnam and reach out to the wider world aroundhim. a fool counting the cards, a monkey praying, Never in anything have I found Howell's vocabulary grew in Vietnam. turned out to be a swarm of fireflies. It was also said the VC kept chickens leashed to strings. they fire on us. Wets her face. long since fled or buried Across my chest *** It is my sincere wish that someone will find these heart-felt writings useful. Records, souvenirs, pretending Equally significant is ex-Marine MacAvoy Laynes novel-in-verse, How Audie Murphy Died in Vietnam (Anchor Books, 1973). More than 50,000 protestors assemble outside the Pentagon. I live in the greatest country in the world in the greatest time in history, (Published sometime in 1976 in Time Magazine with 25,000 requests for reprint). In For Mrs. Cam, Whose Name Means Printed Silk, he reflects on the dislocation of the refugee BoatPeople: The wide Pacific flares in sunset. Your wet clothes piled A third major book to appear during the bicentennial year was Walter McDonalds Caliban in Blue (Texas Tech Press). He is author of 14 books of prose and poetry, and editor or coeditor of four anthologies, and has been publishing regularly in VQR since 1980. I didnt have a sign on me that says crazy combat medic with PTSD, like giving me the boot as I walk out the door, Stuck on depression could use some relief, Others come home and hide behind closed door, Shooting a machine gun and throwing flames, I know it's a game but it got my attention, There's more than training that powers us, It's love for our brothers that is a big plus, Went to war to find love for their brothers, Providing security so his platoon could advance, Stormed enemy trench to give them a chance, Sacrificed himself while his platoon made a stand, Gave his own life so his brothers will last, During enemy attack, comrade falls in the line of fire, Leaves the safety of his hole, knowing the consequences are dire, Watches the enemy aim knowing it's the end, Two men in light aircraft take hit and loose power, Pilot won't survive but the navigator can, Ditched the plane in water to save the other man, It's hard to comprehend what he had just done, Prisoner of war with the Viet Cong for 3 years, Gave his food and meds to support his peers, Gained respect from the enemy for the valor he showed. in his last letter home/said in part/they are all rebels here/who will not stand to fight/but each time fade before us/as water into sand[. by the new earth spongy under our feet: He must be destroyed!Martin said, That antenna was like a kill me sign.Plus, I was 62, and the Vietnamese are typically about 56, Duffy said.The air strikes he called in were the only thing keeping badly-outnumbered South Vietnamese troops from being overrun. Nothing more can be done, except to save them. Also a trained anthropologist, Hurston collected folklore throughout the South and Caribbean reclaiming, honoring and celebrating Black life on its own terms. And not your good love and not the rain-swept air View of American troops from the 173rd Airborne Brigade as they exit a helicopter 40 miles south of Saigon, Vietnam, August 1965. by this dazzle that does not wish to leave us No one won on Charlie;Each side managed to lose. turned out to be artillery rounds. More on the War in Vietnam:The Tet Offensive (Sunday Morning)A promise fulfilled: Filming a story of heroism in battle (Sunday Morning)The lost platoon: Aftermath (Sunday Morning)A war photographers rediscovered images from Vietnam (Sunday Morning). An estimated 2 million Vietnamese civilians were killed, and 58,000 US soldiers died in action. Navy Crosses on my Face. but the passing of a soldier, goes unnoticed, and unsung. a damned hard time. We were given orders to fight to the death, Duffy replied. To cross a river meant leeches. Idly. Cross, Jr. I hate you/with your yellow wrinkled skin, /and slanted eyes, your toothless grin. By clicking Sign up, you agree to our privacy policy. Idly the thick Rach Binh Thuy slides by. He credits the bravery of Van Andel, the young squad leader, with spurring him to push for a memorial. "Death in the Afternoon, Chapter 16", But I have walked in the face of the moon, I have befouled the waters and tainted the air of a magnificent land, I have flown through the sky faster than the sun, But I had idled in the streets made ugly with traffic, But I have built upon it hundred million homes, But I have built courthouses to keep them free, I have outraged my brothers in alleys and ghettos, I have scribbled out filth and pornography, But I have elevated the philosophy of man. 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