My brother was drafted in ‘68, then away he was gone,
he came back after boot camp, it wasn't real long.
There he stood in a green suit with his Maroon beret,
I knew that a soldier I would be one day.
After his leave he went to Vietnam,
I was too young to know how long he was gone.
I got our mail, there were no stamps I could see,
where they belonged was the written the word “Free”.
I was too young to understand,
but soon he came home a whole different man.
Now he walks with things trapped in his head,
often he tells me he wished he was dead.
I fulfilled my dream and joined the Air Force,
I went in freely without any force.
I had great times with the airmen and the things we did see,
I was proud to see the blue beret given to me.
This is my B-52 you can't take it away,
its nuclear weapons are not for play.
I was the best at what I did do,
The U.S. Air force really trains you.
My supervisor and I did not get along,
they sent me to a psychologist and my beret was gone.
I was in Hawaii when this tragedy came,
it tormented my soul and tortured my brain.
I was in the NCO Club draining my glass,
when I met a woman who really had class.
We drank our drinks and then walked in the rain,
She was so beautiful and relieved all my pain.
We were both Staff Sergeants and didn't know then,
twenty one years later she'd still be my friend.
She gave me twin boys and a beautiful girl,
She loves me so much it makes my heart whirl.
From Security Police with a badge and a gun.
I was now in Services Squadron with a dormitory to run.
I passed all inspections, it was simple for me,
The Colonels were pleased with all they did see.
The Wing Commander called me by my first name
the officers looked at him like he was insane.
My First Sergeant was the best friend I had,
the first name thing sometimes made him mad.
Then one winter's day a war did start,
I volunteered for Desert Storm to do my part.
I was flown to Dover Delaware's Port Mortuary,
The workings of a morgue is hard to see.
When it was over I went back to my base,
my mind filled with memories time will not erase.
K.I. Sawyer was closing, you could take a bonus and run,
a severance pay for all the jobs I had done.
I started drinking heavily and depression set in,
a rifle in my mouth was often my friend.
After many times my wife said to me,
“Get help or pull the trigger, this is too much to see.”
I went to bed and in the morning I said,
"Take me to a doctor before I am dead.”
She drove to a psychiatrist in a hard rain,
this was my first step to handle my pain.
My doctor and I were starting to get around,
then in Lake Superior the poor man did drown.
This was another soul that I took in,
I prayed to Jesus for one day to win.
We moved back to my wife Sheli's hometown,
I went to Danville V.A. and the best doctors I've found.
Now I am well-treated I take my meds each day,
others laugh about me, you should hear what they say.
I am Bipolar with PTSD, I take my meds and sometimes see,
often at night I see silver bullets and body bags,
and some of the names on the toe tags.
I still wake from screams and often the sweats,
I did my duty, I have no regrets.
I was there to give some relief,
to all of the family's encompassed in grief.
We dressed our Comrades complete with medals and pins,
we put them on aircraft to sail in the wind.
All branches of military were on my shift,
I could look in their eyes and see their minds drift.
I would crack jokes to all fifteen of my men,
they weren't my subordinates, they were all my friends.
When the enemy gave in and the ground war was over,
I knew that soon I would be leaving Dover.
The Colonel in charge put us all in a group,
He stood in front staunchly, addressing the troops.
He thanked all of us for the Job that had been done,
The Chaplain praised Jesus for the war that we won.
For me my comrades, this was the hardest day,
when the bugle Sounded and Taps it did play.
I looked and the Colonel had a tear in his eye,
mine streamed down my face as I openly cried.
It's been many years and a man posed the question:
“Stan would you do it over?” “Yes, over and again!”
Because serving your Country isn't a Sin.
God bless America, and the American Fighting Men.