.Some "OLD" Old Guy

[jrhume]

EDIT: I bumped this up from some old threads in current affairs, I had not read it and I enjoyed it so I thought others might also. Bruce


I write a few lines of poetry from time to time and one of the poems I did a couple years ago expressed, as best I could, my feelings about those Canadians who served alongside their US brothers in Vietnam.  

Canadians - Brothers in Arms

Draft dodgers went North,
south came our brothers,
to take up the arms,
disdained by the others.

Like us, most were young,
and believed they would live.
when Death and his minions,
sought all they could give.

A hundred or more,
names on the Wall,
carved in black granite,
to help us recall.

? JR Hume, 2000

And here's one with a different slant concerning the reception we got on returning home.

Welcome Home

Hot August day, sixty-eight,
Travis Air Force Base.
Mercy flight from Vietnam,
rolls into it's place.

Home, at last - veterans,
fresh from jungle camp.
Walking wounded first,
step slowly down the ramp.
 
Demonstrators chant,
torn men wait with pain.
And hide behind blank faces,
soldiers - home again.

Hate and slogans shouted.
Broken faith - broken trust.
Duty made a crime.
Honor ground to dust.
 
He's waiting at the gate.
Back from war today.
Are the people cheering?
Does the music play?

? JR Hume, 2000

I was feeling a little bitter when I wrote that last one.  Putting those feelings into words helped, I think.      

You all will have to let me know if an occasional poem is acceptable.  About half the poetry I write is Vietnam or military related.    

 

[cagomez]

Sad stuff

 

[Spanky]

Old Guy, there are a lot of young Canadians on this bulletin board. Many are reservists and cadets. Many are also contemplating joining up. It is important to them, I think, to hear what you have to say.
Messages and comments from those who have been there, done that would be most welcome. As a matter of fact, it would be an honour!!!!!

Just my two cents.... heck, make it two American cents.

 

[Sharpey]

That‘s about.....$15.00 Canadian!! But yes, true what you said Spanky, all coments like that are welcome. I only wish I got more out of my Grandfather before he passed. Navy, but we won‘t critisize him for that

 

[Korus]

Old Guy, there are a lot of young Canadians on this bulletin board. Many are reservists and cadets. Many are also contemplating joining up. It is important to them, I think, to hear what you have to say.

Definatley.... I‘ve seen many of my peers contemplate joining (very few actually go through with it) for the wrong reasons... The naivety of youth, I guess (which I have to say all people my age have, including myself..)

But, I‘ve also got to say that it was pretty naive for the student protestors in the Vietnam war era to ridicule the soldiers. They where only doing their duty. Many drafted against their will, but had a sense of honor enough not to dodge the draft. The protestors failed to realise that it‘s the politicians who make the descisions that send the soldiers to war...

Some of the current attitudes towards the CF bother me, especially at my University. Writers (editors) of the uni newspaper have ridiculed soldiers on a couple of occasions, and some people I know have gone so far as to say that the soldiers who fought in the wars of the past didn‘t give us our freedom. No matter how hard I try to explain to them that if it wasn‘t for the allied armies of WW II, we‘d all be goose-stepping right now. They‘re the ones who call me an idiot for joining... I‘m not saying I faced anything like a vietnam vet had to face, far from it... I haven‘t really faced much at all..

I really appreciate the posts from the older members of the board, who have experienced and can provide valuable insight...

 

[jrhume]

I haven‘t much insight - at least not until I‘ve downed a few beers.

Korus, don‘t worry too much about the attitude at university. People ridicule soldiers for lots of reasons, but mostly because they don‘t have any understanding of their own history. Read some of Kipling‘s poetry. That attitude toward soldiers isn‘t new.

People have all sorts of reason for not joining the military. Whether they don‘t want anyone telling them what to do or hesitate to sign a certain portion of their life away, the real reason has to do with fear - fear of the unknown. Each of these people will find themselves tied down to jobs and situations where plenty of people will be telling them what to do - and not in any polite way either!

Putting on a uniform involves stepping into the unknown in a way too large for many people to accept. Yet, those of us who have spent time in the service almost always see it as a positive thing. There are exceptions. Some folks can make a mess of military service and a few plainly aren‘t suited to it.

I understand fear. Fear drove many young men of my generation to abandon their country in order to avoid being drafted. Chances are good that most of them would have either been a REMF, like me, or wouldn‘t have gone to Vietnam at all. But, they couldn‘t see that. Their fear took away all ability to see reason.

That‘s okay. I hold no grudges against them. The Canadian men who came down to serve more than made up for whatever we lost with the shirkers.

Whether you carry a rifle or repair airplanes (as my father did in WW2), the experience of serving in the military is unique and can be a positive influence on the rest of your life.

If you hesitate and decide not to join - that‘s fine. Just don‘t make me listen to all your reasons for not joining. I‘ve already heard them.

 

[Robert Bickle]

Old Guy...
Give us old farts 2 or 3 beers and you can‘t be sure what is going to come out of our mouths..
Mostly true stories, some fiction, and maybe even poetry...Keep up the good work and have another Colorado Coors ....And one for me..

 

[Ranger]

"Old Guy"...feel free to grace us with more of that great stuff.

 

[Lance Wiebe]

I concur.  Keep pushing the stuff our way.

I went down to the States with the intention of joining up in '71, thinking I would go to Nam.  What made me not to join was this huge protest at the induction center.  I guess I got there just as a new draft was reporting in.  I couldn't get near the place for the protesters, and what they were saying was really sad.  So, I went home and stayed in the Reserves, until I joined our military.

I wonder how my life would have been if I went down a day later, or earlier?  Funny how life is.

Maybe someday, Old Guy, we'll meet and down a few brewskis together.

 

[Mike Bobbitt]

I know many will remember "Old Guy" from his stories and other posts here. I've heard through the grapevine that he has published a book of poetry called "Brushstrokes" and that there may be more on the way.

I'll turn this into a shameless plug by inviting people to visit http://www.jrhume.com where you can learn more.


Cheers
Mike

 

[brin11]

Hey Old Guy,

Are you writing any new stories???

 

[Fishbone Jones]

Hey Old Guy,

Are you writing any new stories???

Unfortunately, Old Guy asked to have his account here deactivated some time ago.

 

[Mike Bobbitt]

That's true, but I understand he still comes back from time to time in "read only" mode.

 

[Old Guy]

So, I've corresponded a few times with Mike and done a little lurking.

This still looks like a good place, even for an unabashed American Imperialist like me.

Besides the poetry book Mike mentioned above, I'm in the process of finding a publisher for three novels,
one is a military/fantasy tale and the other two are military SF -- tales of the Imperial Marines a thousand years hence.

I also am still writing poetry -- when the mood strikes.

Like this one:

On the Berm at Midnight

It's dark, damned dark.
You can't see shit.
There's a bunker all around you,
sandbags, four deep on top, thicker at the sides.
A fucking crypt, Army-built to hold three morons
too dumb to get out of guard duty.

You know about the wire
and mines, and tin cans with pebbles inside.
Like Charlie ain't smart enough
to keep clear of wire and rattling cans.
Two clackers hang to your left,
clackers for your own personal claymores.
Except it's so fucking dark you can't see shit,
much less clackers.

Charlie is out there.
In the wire.

You can feel the little bastards.
Laughing at you and your stupid fucking wire
and dumb shit pebbles in C-rat cans.
They're coming closer.
You want a cigarette,
but not bad enough to light a match.
Not with Charlie out there watching.

The radio hums and garbles.
It's turned way down, so Charlie can't hear
and you can't either, but who gives a shit?
The little brown bastards will slip through the fucking wire
and cut your throat before you even know you're dead.
That's what they say.

Some asshole two bunkers down fires up the night.
Tracers rip wire and dirt and cans.
Flares blossom overhead,
swing down under dorky white chutes.
You stare out into bright light
at dancing black shadows.

Black comes back.
Your night vision is fucked.
And Charlie's out there.
You can feel him.



©  JR Hume, 2005


I hope some of the language doesn't get futzed in the posting process.
The words are not meant to offend or make a point, just to help set a
mood, a dark night on the berm mood.

jrh

 

[Fishbone Jones]

JR,

Good to see you back. You've been missed.

 

[Old Guy]

Well, the Automatic Big Brother didn't like parts of the last one.
Here's one with a lighter mood and a grim warning. 

Barking Dogs

At night, under a pale moon,
or in the light of day,
and for no known reason -- they bark.

We shout and threaten,
send them scuttling for cover
and curse the mutts in language foul
for howling in that raucous chorus
of every dog for miles around.

And still, they slip the bonds,
bark and carry on,
for no reason we can see.

No reason we can see.

Yet, I wonder at scaled shapes glimpsed
from the corner of my eye.
I think of slave ships from Altair,
hidden on the moon's dark side.
Powered up, impulse engines at idle,
waiting -- just waiting for a chance.

"Fool!" you say and laugh and turn away.
"There are no feral hyper-ships,
no flesh markets on Altair.
Leave off your imbecile maunderings
and quiet that damn dog!"

I alone comprehend our danger, mortal.
Well, me and forty million hounds.

Yap at the moon, dear dogs.
Warn away those fearful ships,
replete with whips and chains.

Yes, Altair slavers fear our dogs.
Were they foes in ancient wars?
Did tooth and claw fight dripping fang
and coiling tentacles on blood-slick starship decks?

Sometimes I wonder.
Could dogs be cosmic heroes,
or just con artists in mangy fur?
Do they save us from a grisly fate?
Can we take that chance?

So quiet not your howling dog,
nor complain about the neighbor's mutt,
lest you succeed in silencing
our sentinels, our staunch defenders.

Pack your ears with cotton,
play music, drown the choir.
Small stuff my friend, small indeed,
compared to the salt mines of old Altair.



JR Hume, 2005

 

[Bruce Monkhouse]

Old Guy,
Welcome back....stick around this time.....

 

[Fishbone Jones]

Well, the Automatic Big Brother didn't like parts of the last one.

You got to shut it off in your preferences. Your prose came through in all it's glory on my machine.