I recieved these from friends in New York and thought they are great tributes to the Veterans.
Mike Schafernocker, Vietnam 1968
Look God,
I have never spoken to you,
But now I want to say,
How do you do?
You see God,
They told me you didn’t exist,
And like a fool,
I believed all this.
Last night from a shell hole,
I saw your sky,
I figured right then,
They had told me a lie.
Had I taken time,
To see the things you’ve made,
I’d have known they weren’t calling,
A spade, a spade.
I wonder God,
If you’d take my hand?
Somehow I feel,
That you’ll understand.
Funny I had to come,
To this hellish place,
Before I had time,
To see your face.
Well I guess there isn’t,
Much more to say,
But I’m sure glad God,
I meet you today.
I guess the zero hour,
Will soon be here,
But I’m not afraid,
Since I know you’re near.
The signal, well God,
I’ll have to go,
I like you a lot,
So I want you to know.
Look now this will be,
A horrible fight,
Who knows I may come,
To your house tonight.
Though I wasn’t friendly,
To you before,
I wonder God,
If you’d wait at the door?
Look I’m crying,
Me, shedding tears!
I wish I had known you,
These many years.
Well God, I'll have to go,
Good-bye,
Strange now since I’ve meet you,
I’m not afraid to die.
Copyright © 1968 by
Michael E Schafernocker
Aviation Ordinanceman 2nd Class
U.S. Navy Seawolf
Born: Feb 28th, 1949
Died: April 28, 1969
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T'was the night before Christmas……..a Soldier’s ParodyT'was the night before Christmas,
He lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of
Plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney
With presents to give,
And to see just who
In this home did live.
I looked all about,
A strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle,
Just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures
Of far distant lands.
With medals and badges,
Awards of all kinds,
A sober thought
Came through my mind.
For this house was different,
It was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier,
Once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping,
Silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor
In this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle,
The room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured
A United States soldier.
Was this the hero
Of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho,
The floor for a bed?
I realized the families
That I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers
Who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world,
The children would play,
And grownups would celebrate
A bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom
Each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers,
Like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder
How many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas eve
In a land far from home.
The very thought
Brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees
And started to cry.
The soldier awakened
And I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry,
This life is my choice,
I fight for freedom,
I don't ask for more,
My life I defend,
My country, my corps."
The soldier rolled over
And soon drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it,
I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours,
So silent and still
And we both shivered
From the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave
On that cold, dark, night,
This guardian of honor
So willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over,
With a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa,
It's Christmas day, all is secure."
One look at my watch,
And I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend,
And to all a good night."
This poem was written by a marine stationed in Okinawa, Japan.
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