AFTERMATH
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8153
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
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AFTERMATH
Heard on the news that USA is getting their troops out of Afghanistan by Christmas. Are we??? Haven't heard anything to say that we are but one hopes that common sense prevails. After all every time America sneezes good old Oz reaches for a tissue.
Suspect this may well become a scenario replayed
AFTERMATH
When the bands all cease to play and the last drummers gone home,
on the Cenotaphs sandstone steps sits a man all alone,
with a bottle in his hand and a tear upon his face
in a baggy worn out suit - doesn't he look out of place?
Passers by don't meet his eye, they barely spare him a glance,
thinking just another drunk , one who doesn't have a chance
of being worth a mention in their oh so busy day.
But they cannot see the medals that he has hidden away.
Faded ribbons, tarnished silver that he once wore on his chest.
Now he cannot bear to wear them for the heartache in his breast.
Once he proudly wore the uniform and bravely fought the fight,
but he's now beset by demons that come visiting at night.
He's a fear of enclosed spaces, and a dread of unknown noise
and no longer does he walk the streets with dignity and poise.
He is just a homeless person, one of those down on their luck
and it's only the medication that stops him running amuck.
His dreams are filled with shots and shells and red and flaming flares.
The sobbing of the wounded is more than a man can bear
and the steaming humid jungles and the thick lantana vines
full of snakes and ticks and poison pricks and camouflaged land mines.
The noise, the smells, the screams, the cries are livid in his mind.
He sees the faces of his mates those that he left behind.
He sees his younger brother fall, and that was the last time
that he saw him, for a thrown grenade exploded, made him blind.
He was returned to Aussie shores, but his brother was not.
He lies somewhere in Vietnam in Jungle green and hot,
and to this day his Brothers can recall that final glance
and the grin his Brother gave him. Before loosing his last chance.
So he doesn't march on Anzac day and wears the green no more.
He's the flotsam and the jetson, the sad detritus of war.
And of course he is a hero but that hasn't helped him much
for he's fallen through the cracks it seems..completely out of touch.
And he is just one of many, and no doubt there will be more
shattered souls and lives who find their way back home to Aussie shores.
So though war may make men heroes and we acknowledge their giving,
on Anzac Day honour the dead but fight like hell for the living.
Maureen Clifford ©
Suspect this may well become a scenario replayed
AFTERMATH
When the bands all cease to play and the last drummers gone home,
on the Cenotaphs sandstone steps sits a man all alone,
with a bottle in his hand and a tear upon his face
in a baggy worn out suit - doesn't he look out of place?
Passers by don't meet his eye, they barely spare him a glance,
thinking just another drunk , one who doesn't have a chance
of being worth a mention in their oh so busy day.
But they cannot see the medals that he has hidden away.
Faded ribbons, tarnished silver that he once wore on his chest.
Now he cannot bear to wear them for the heartache in his breast.
Once he proudly wore the uniform and bravely fought the fight,
but he's now beset by demons that come visiting at night.
He's a fear of enclosed spaces, and a dread of unknown noise
and no longer does he walk the streets with dignity and poise.
He is just a homeless person, one of those down on their luck
and it's only the medication that stops him running amuck.
His dreams are filled with shots and shells and red and flaming flares.
The sobbing of the wounded is more than a man can bear
and the steaming humid jungles and the thick lantana vines
full of snakes and ticks and poison pricks and camouflaged land mines.
The noise, the smells, the screams, the cries are livid in his mind.
He sees the faces of his mates those that he left behind.
He sees his younger brother fall, and that was the last time
that he saw him, for a thrown grenade exploded, made him blind.
He was returned to Aussie shores, but his brother was not.
He lies somewhere in Vietnam in Jungle green and hot,
and to this day his Brothers can recall that final glance
and the grin his Brother gave him. Before loosing his last chance.
So he doesn't march on Anzac day and wears the green no more.
He's the flotsam and the jetson, the sad detritus of war.
And of course he is a hero but that hasn't helped him much
for he's fallen through the cracks it seems..completely out of touch.
And he is just one of many, and no doubt there will be more
shattered souls and lives who find their way back home to Aussie shores.
So though war may make men heroes and we acknowledge their giving,
on Anzac Day honour the dead but fight like hell for the living.
Maureen Clifford ©
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
- Bob Pacey
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- Joined: Thu Dec 02, 2010 9:18 am
- Location: Yeppoon
Re: AFTERMATH
A sad but oft true story Maureen.
We had a group that I did a birthday party for and the fella who organised it was a vietmam vet. We were talking about how they handled the return to society and he said it was harder for his wife. They have a group of ladies that meet every week for a chat and cuppa and to, as he said "learn to live with us mental bastards".
Says it all really .
Thanks Bob
We had a group that I did a birthday party for and the fella who organised it was a vietmam vet. We were talking about how they handled the return to society and he said it was harder for his wife. They have a group of ladies that meet every week for a chat and cuppa and to, as he said "learn to live with us mental bastards".
Says it all really .
Thanks Bob
Last edited by Bob Pacey on Mon Oct 24, 2011 4:59 pm, edited 2 times in total.
The purpose in life is to have fun.
After you grasp that everything else seems insignificant !!!
After you grasp that everything else seems insignificant !!!
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- Posts: 1405
- Joined: Sun Oct 31, 2010 1:41 pm
- Location: Port Lincoln SA
Re: AFTERMATH
Yeah....I get a bit funny about the way we , or should I say some, refer to returned servicemen who have seen active duty. I do get cranky when the media report a house invasion, or a mugging or some similar crime, then they add that the victim was an ex service man, does that make it a worse crime?....I don't think so. I have been fortunate enough to avoid being sent to war, though when my time was approaching to sign up for Vietnam, although I didn't really want to go, I was prepared to if I had the call. I have several mates who went, including twin brothers, I had an uncle who fought in Korea and a neighbour who fought in Egypt. I also have known many ex servicmen from WW2 who saw active duty, I can honestly say I have never seen any evidence of mental stress in any of them. I must make one exception to that, a bloke who was an ex Viet Vet and had a mates head blown off next to him, did actually break into tears while he was relaying it to me, but even then he had been drinking quite a bit beforehand. Now I have nothing but praise, admiration and respect for any serviceman, and consider myself very lucky to not have had to be one, however, I sometimes wonder how many of those people who now suffer with some mental ailment which is attributed to their war experience, would have suffered a similar problem even without the trauma of their involnvment in war. There is after all, many who suffer the same problems who have never been to war.
All the same Maureen, a fine acknowledgement of our fighting men...and women.
All the same Maureen, a fine acknowledgement of our fighting men...and women.
Ross
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8153
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
- Contact:
Re: AFTERMATH
I think sometimes Ross they just hide it pretty well. I have one mate almost my age who is going to weekly counselling sessions for PTSD. He has had no problems that he ever let on about but the floods here in January with all the flattened foliage and destroyed homes put him back in Vietnam again. Violence, anger and depression surfaced overnight and this gentle man became not so gentle as my girlfriend his wife of less than 2 years discovered. But he is doing well with the sessions although had to give up work.
Another friend who was regular army and a W. O. lost the plot completely, started doing drugs at around age 45 to escape the demons that were tormenting him, became an alcoholic, was discharged with a bad report after over 30 years in the Army and has gone bush somewhere??? He told me once that he was good for nothing other than being a 'trained killer'...turned out that he had led a sorty into a village and children were killed as enemy soldiers - he had kids the same age..how do you get your head around that.
My own FIL took his own life 30 years after the war using his old army rifle that we didn't even know he had. He fought on Kokoda. We never knew he had a problem other that drinking a bit too much at times.. He was a successful and well liked man but would never speak of the war, To this day we don't know why he did what he did, but it was just after the 1974 floods - maybe something triggered it.
Personally I think there are many who suffer in silence, and sadly think we are about to see a new surge of walking wounded on our shores.
Glad you liked what I wrote Ross - I feel for them and for their families.
Another friend who was regular army and a W. O. lost the plot completely, started doing drugs at around age 45 to escape the demons that were tormenting him, became an alcoholic, was discharged with a bad report after over 30 years in the Army and has gone bush somewhere??? He told me once that he was good for nothing other than being a 'trained killer'...turned out that he had led a sorty into a village and children were killed as enemy soldiers - he had kids the same age..how do you get your head around that.
My own FIL took his own life 30 years after the war using his old army rifle that we didn't even know he had. He fought on Kokoda. We never knew he had a problem other that drinking a bit too much at times.. He was a successful and well liked man but would never speak of the war, To this day we don't know why he did what he did, but it was just after the 1974 floods - maybe something triggered it.
Personally I think there are many who suffer in silence, and sadly think we are about to see a new surge of walking wounded on our shores.
Glad you liked what I wrote Ross - I feel for them and for their families.
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
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- Posts: 1405
- Joined: Sun Oct 31, 2010 1:41 pm
- Location: Port Lincoln SA
Re: AFTERMATH
You could well be right Maureen, one thing I have noticed with a few blokes from various wars, the ones who have the most to say about it are generally the ones who saw the least! I guess we could go on forever about it, I know people who have done similar things as you describe, suicide, drugs late in life etc. but all the people I know or knew, had not done active service!.....I guess I just can't always accept the easiest explanation to things.......I will agree with you though, there is very little good when it comes to wars.
Ross
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Re: AFTERMATH
r.magnay wrote: I know people who have done similar things as you describe, suicide, drugs late in life etc. but all the people I know or knew, had not done active service!..
Very good point Ross. How can we judge " the heart " when we only know the outward appearance.
Neville
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.