CHARITABLE HOMICIDE

We played them as children — swift, wary, brave
Always made it to the foxhole before the grenade blew
We always “got the drop,” on each other — heroes not yet grown

Burn’s documentary tore away the facade
The greatest generation did not always win
Had no absolute or foolproof ways

Brave men, Marines, soldiers, sailors, pilots, ran for life
Had no undefeatable strategies
And sometimes, no help at all

I didn’t know how they had survived Hell itself
And how Hell, not being just a word anymore
Haunted their dreams more than sixty years later

These brave men dove into the dirt
Placed hands on the backs of their heads
And prayed that God would not let them die

Yet more of the enemy died
And more of our heroes came home
Not always whole and hardly alive

Is the dollar menu at McDonalds
Or half time entertainment at the Super Bowl
Really fair compensation?

How can they have peace
If we really don’t care?
When 501(c)s only give them one damned percent!

Written sometime in 2008 or 2009 — Peter W. Johnson

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