Last night I cried. Something had changed.
I remembered their faces, but forgot their names.
Young men old, all men brave.
Tough and strong, old to the games.
Gunner’s Mate “Gunny”. Boatswain’s Mate “Boats”.
Corpsman called “Doc”. All hard core cases.
Names are passing, but not scenes.
Not sounds or smells. Dates, never places.
The drink of rum, a search for escape.
Faces so young, no anger or remorse.
They smiled and laughed in times of ease,
But stood their duty, and stayed the course.
Distance and time change us all.
Those once young, parts of stories told.
Photos at hand are all I have.
I remember their faces, they never grow old.
Asked, “God, what happened?” Time was so short.
Emotions so passionate, intenseness so strong.
Tied together by unseen bonds.
Shared deeds and times. A feeling to belong.

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