GENERAL RAYMOND G. DAVIS - Korean War Veterans Association

The Poets’ Place...
ONLY A VOLUNTEER
Why didn’t I wait to be drafted.
And to be led to the train by the band,
Or out on claims of exemption,
Oh, why did I hold up my hand?
Why didn’t I wait for the banquet?
Why didn’t I wait to be cheered?
For the drafted men get the credit.
While I was merely a VOLUNTEER.
And nobody gave me a banquet.
Nobody said a kind word.
The puff of the engine, the grind of the wheels,
Was all the good-bye I heard.
Then off to the training camp hustled,
To be drilled for the next year,
And in the shuffle forgotten,
For I’m only a VOLUNTEER.
And perhaps someday in the future
When a little boy sits on my knee,
And asks what I did in the great war,
And his little eyes look up at me,
I will have to look down into those eyes,
That at me so trustingly peer,
And confess that I wasn’t drafted,
That I was merely a VOLUNTEER!
Author Unknown
Submitted by Alan Roos
LOST INNOCENCE OF YOUTH
As friends were leaving school The pirate and brush
For the joys of summer
Feel the sting of death
A foreign war erupted
While politicians speak police action
Half a world away.
Half a world away.
Orders received to help comrades The pride of our youth
Ill-equipped, ill-prepared
Kept Pusan from becoming
Against a foreign horde
America’s Dunkirk
Half a world away.
Half a world away.
The sunshine innocence of youth Workers strike in America
Is lost to the cold bitterness of war As crosses multiply in Korea
Half a world away.
Half a world away.
Names not learned in school Shame and disgrace is theirs
Chongjin, Wonsan, Songjin
Who did not keep faith with us
Receive fire and destruction Half a world away.
From cruisers Worcester and Helena
Half a world away.
George A. McKenna
A Letter to Mom ( From a soldier at war )
Graybeards Copies
It’s a little cold and damp, Mom,,
the food is not so good;
The mud is thick and deep, Mom,
and soaked with human blood.
There’s a bullet in my chest, Mom,
but it doesn’t hunt too much;
Like when I see a little orphan,
without a leg or crutch.
They’ re coming down the hill, Mom,
about ten thousand and strong;
And no matter how we fight and pray,
we can’t hold out for long.
But we will fight all over, Mom,
to keep this country free;
To guard our right and freedom,
and protect our liberty.
Tell my girl not to cry, Mom,
tell Dad to be real brave;
And when they send me home, Mom,
please write “glory” on my grave.
Tell my little sister, Mom,
I had to go away;
Tell her not to cry, Mom,
I’ll see her again one day.
Tell her I went to heaven, Mom,
to see the Lord above;
Tell her about the world, Mom,
and how things are above.
I’m sorry I can’t see you, Mom,
again before I die;
But I’d like to say “I love you, Mom,”
before I say “good-bye.”
Veronica Krakovsky, January 20, 1975
(15 years old at this time
The requests for extra The Graybeards
to support printing of same was such a
sucess, we will offer extra copies for every
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The Graybeards is a great tool for the
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We can send up to 8 copies for $3.85
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