Vietnam War

We that survided,we that shed are blood,we are brothers that live on.All ways being haunted for what we did,never knowing peace.Hauted in are dreams,waking knowing no peace.Will we ever find peace,for things in the past.For were we right or wrong,to answer the call,for freedom has a price.For my brother that gave all,I will all ways see your smiling face.I will all ways feel the pain,for your children will never Know you,your wife will all ways feel hollow,Moms and Dads missing their kids.For we where kids that answered the call,so freedom can ring on.We lucky few that have survided,will all ways live in the shadow of things.Never knowing peace.Being misunderstood,for they do not know,the pain we have,the haunting we go thru.For we few that have shed a tear,for the soldier that we did not know,as we were holding him dear,telling him that it will be ok.Knowing but not telling,but tryiny to bring a little peace,to our brother that gave all.We few that think it should have been me.For we feel that we are murders for the things we have done.No one can understand,for the feelings we have.So freedom can ring on.So if you see us walking down the street,extend your arm and shake mine.Tell us thank you and welcome home.For the freedom you have is because of my brothers and me. Frank Tate Vietnam June 1970 to October 1971

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