In a frozen clime
Only memories now enshrine

Out of the night a bugle call
Fire and ice the advance did stall

Many the unsung deed
So common because of need

Up and across the mountain trace
More cold and enemy yet to face

Steel and flesh into the maw
No release until winters thaw

Clash of arms in the night
The morning sun a thankful sight

Motion and spirit often retarded
The foe in action disregarded

Mile on mile each claiming a fee
Finally, finally ships on the sea

It was every man's story
Unknowingly a march to Glory

Rick Seward


I have walked the halls of my forefather "What is the cost.. A life? A limb?
Prayed in churches of this land; A Brother lost."
Have known the fury of the tempest
And soared aloft where the jet stream plays While valor rings loud in word and song
Who speaks for those who still march
Been in the rage of battles In the valley of Shadows?
To bring wars end; "We shall, Lord … we, their Brothers,
Have heard the Orphan's cry We the living by… Your Grace
And seen the widows tears …. It's our duty."
Have heard the laughter of my children So, comade, don't lament your loss
And the laughter of their children. Nor weep for them
And through it all, an echo resounds- But speak for them
asking--- From them a duty calls.

Rick Seward E-2-5


In the rustle of the leaves, and crispness of autumn air
You see and hear the goodbyes of summer
The gold and browns of Oak and Aspen herald
The not so welcome start of winter

A first chill of morning stirs the haunts of an old memory
boldly proud, deathly sad.

From behind graying temples panoramas edge their way
Through the years, recalling Wood smoke in the air, snowflakes silent as light,
Drifting in the mud ruts in a road never quite forgotten.

A holiday dinner in a miniature classroom,
a foxhole for an easy chair, with a cigar and friend.

Aroma of turkey in the oven, again a holiday, pumpkin pie
And chestnuts or powder of first snow
All ignite the flame of fraternity.
When first it happened was a long time ago ... but not for those who were there.
From the chill of that long ago winter came the Men
from Chosin.
Beginning a shared experience …. not yet ended.

Rick Seward

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