I ran across this poem quite by accident and was so touched by it, I’d like to pass it on to you this Memorial Day. It reminded me of a family incident a few years ago, that showed me how easy it is to overlook the true heroes around us, or perhaps, simply not know their stories, so we can honor them appropriately.

At my Aunt’s 90^th birthday party a few years ago, the table talk turned to the 50^th Anniversary of the Normandy Invasion which was in the news.  Before lunch was done I’d learned to my astonishment that an aunt by marriage had been a Lieutenant with the first Nurse Corps to land on Omaha Beach on that fateful day of invasion, and that an uncle had received the Croix de Guerre for conspicuous bravery in France.  Not only had neither of them ever bragged about their courage, they’d never even mentioned it.  So in their honor, and in tribute to all the other unsung heroes of our all too frequent wars, I offer this sweet and poignant poem:

Just a Common Soldier
(A Soldier Died Today)

by A. Lawrence Vaincourt

He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion, telling stories of the past
Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, every one.

And tho’ sometimes, to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
All his Legion buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we’ll hear his tales no longer for old Bill has passed away,
And the world’s a little poorer, for a soldier died today.

He will not be mourned by many, just his children and his wife,
For he lived an ordinary and quite uneventful life.
Held a job and raised a family, quietly going his own way,
And the world’s a little poorer, for a soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell their whole life stories, from the time that they were young,
But the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land
A guy who breaks his promises and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow who, in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his Country and offers up his life?

A politician’s stipend and the style in which he lives
Are sometimes disproportionate to the service that he gives.
While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal and perhaps, a pension small.

It’s so easy to forget them for it was so long ago,
That the old Bills of our Country went to battle, but we know
It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom that our Country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger, with your enemies at hand,
Would you want a politician with his ever-shifting stand?
Or would you prefer a soldier, who has sworn to defend
His home, his kin and Country and would fight until the end?

He was just a common soldier and his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us we may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict, then we find the soldier’s part
Is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor while he’s here to hear the praise,
Then at least let’s give him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline in a paper that would say,
Our Country is in mourning, for a soldier died today.

© A. Lawrence Vaincourt

For more information about this poem, please visit: http://vaincourt.homestead.com/

This second poem which also seems to me appropriate on a day so full of flags and fervor, is one I’ve had hanging on my wall for years.  I found it when writing An Excess of Love (it’s on page 437) and it never fails to move me to tears.

 Two Sides of War (All Wars)

by Grantland Rice

All wars are planned by older men,
In council rooms apart,
Who call for greater armament
And map the battle chart.
But out along the shattered fields
Where golden dreams turn gray,
How very young the faces were
Where all the dead men lay.
Portly and solemn in their pride,
The elders cast their vote
For this or that, or something else,
That sounds the martial note.
But where their sightless eyes stare out,
Beyond life’s vanished joys,
I’ve noticed nearly all the dead
Were hardly more than boys.

© Grantland Rice

Tags: country, Family, poem

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