Author: Joseph H.Reynolds, USMC D/2/7

Often when I sit alone, and twilight fills the sky,
I find myself recalling scenes from other years gone by.
Memories of Korea still clutter up my head,
Those dreary days and hellish nights, and my friends, long dead.

The many hills we fought through, which never seemed to end,
And all the while the fear inside, of death around the bend.
The clashes with the enemy, who sometimes fled away,
But, for every hill we won, someone had to pay.

Maybe one was lucky, when a bullet found an arm;
for a litue while, at least, you were safe from harm.
My mind recalls the icy weather, when diseases took their toll,
When frozen feet were common, from winter's numbing cold.

The trench line with its bunkers and grimy faces there,
Where if you were observant, you saw the burnt-out stare.
The pathway from the trenches that led to no-man's land,
A torn and barren place of ground, destroyed by human hand.

Always, there were those who fell, never to arise,
And to this day, I still can see the shock in startled eyes.
These vivid pictures locked inside, although they do not show,
Never seem to leave my thoughts, no matter where I go.


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