Bein’ drafted back in ‘72, I never thought I’d make it outta that hellhole alive. But here I am, scarred and weathered, with stories that’d curl your hair. It wasn’t all misery though; we had our moments of levity, laughin’ in the face of death. I’ll never forget the night we ambushed the NVA, or the time I took down a Charlie with just a machete and my bare hands.
These days, folks don’t understand what we went through. They’re too busy protestin’ and burnin’ flags, thinkin’ war’s just a video game. They’ve never seen the true cost, the friends I lost, the ones who came back broken. I’ll carry those memories with me, but I’ll also remember the brotherhood, the way we watched each other’s backs. That’s something money can’t buy, and no amount of therapy will ever heal.
As I look back, I’m proud of the man I became, forged in the fires of war. I may limp a little, but I’ll never bend. So, next time some hippie kid calls me a baby killer, I’ll just point to my Purple Heart and say, ‘You wanna walk a mile in these boots?’
>Soulkyn