Although I wrote this poem many years ago, it is still dedicated to all the young men and women who have given their lives on foreign soil for freedom and who continue to do so today. White Flag Day one: We went out Into that boiling hell-hole Of wind burned sunswept mirages, Laughing - Boasting - Confident - Like all young men When they do What they haven't done before. We'd win. We knew. For young men cannot die (Or such young men believe) Night one: Snake bite In a hellish night Suffered Randalls. Snake died - big snake - black - small spot on the back of its shattered head - Still young Still sure Still laughed, But Randalls limped a little When he talked And we shivered As we grinned. Day two: We limped As we laughed On our blistered feet In the grinding scratching seething sun Though we killed the bite Randalls' leg infected. Dusty scorpions Bathing dragons Crunching underfoot Soft hair on our faces Stiffening in the blazing wind Strong in the challenge We laughed. Night two: Slept well In a hollow in the crazy sand Laughing in our dreams As on occasion we won Randalls slept Though the sand Ground deep In the widening festering wound Sometimes whimpered While the shifting Cold sand Covered us. Day three: We woke With the sand and the sun in our eyes - Red, grinding eyes Grinned at each other Croaked at each other Buried Randalls - aged quickly For young men cannot die (or so young men believe) Set out again In the granite forest At the base of the black plateau Hot sun raked us Like the cats of the hungry plateau We drank our water Great Gluttonous Gulps Suddenly it was gone Grinning slightly Looked up At the black heathen outline Watching as the pale, pitiless sun picked at out glittering eyes. Night three: Black clouds Choked in a Sea of boulders Granite needles Pierced through the night Shallow dried-up pitfalls And how we prayed for the light Windstrung fingers In the frozen darkness Strumming us in our sleep Cold as the Kiss of Death... Epilogue: Sandstone cliffs Stand out Against a pale burning sky Painful flashes - slashes - Of a long-dead storm Flag barely Flutters White flag Nearly covered in sand Like attempted truce To the cruel sun the sand black cliffs red wind And pale, burning sky. © 1978 - 2006 Dave Cottrell

Thank you Dave for the poem.  You must have been there.  Thanks to all the brave men and women who face such enemies.  We take so much for granted but want to remember those who fight for our freedom.  I thank you and all others who face so many combats we cannot imagine.  I only wish it did not have to be.  No war, just peace.

I am glad that you are able to put into words so much that others like you are not able to do.  Poetry is such a gift, I wish the world could understand that not all are gifted.

 

Hello david, well phrased and sized up. It places the mind as if in a passed life, or a missed decade of memmories. I congradgulate and appreciate all that faced the Hells of war and battle. On Vetrians day i try to show at least one Vet my Thanks . I'm ussualy on the road then and stop at a truck stop and offer to pay for a vets meal. This passed vets day, I was in Elkton MD. Standing at the buffet and stated to the man next to me as I looked up at him (and I"M 6'6) You look as though you spent some time in the service? He loadly and proudly states yes and says yr-toyr and country. As I walked by his table I stopped and grabbed up his reciept and becan to pay the waitress. The man Stood behind me now and towering over me with his size loadly boast whats going on- I simply said "I gotchata' day today! he boast again DA""M man every one looking as I say happy vets day and make my leave.. Those that served dureing the 60-67 was protecting my mother as she was carrieing me. Born in 67 I sometimes think maybe this life is remembering those years of the 60"S where maybe I once was.

I appreciated your poem.  (I cannot say that I enjoyed it.  I trust that you know what I mean.)

Two places stood out to me: 1) For young men cannot die (Or such young men believe), and 2) The place where you stated that their reactions (laughing, boasting, confident) are what all young men have when they do what they haven't done before.

Hi Sara, I wasn't there, but have heard much of the horror from my dad and many who have been there, in various terrible conflicts around the world. Sometimes you hear stories of glory from people who have been "over there," but what I've found is that those who were in the thick of things usually have to be coaxed to talk about it, do not have any stories of personal glory, and live for the rest of their lives with images in their heads that they wish weren't there. The sacrifices that are made for freedom go far beyond the conflict. God bless, Dave