NOW PLAYING: Veterans' Day

11 November, 2001
In gratitude to those who've served America in the armed forces, here's a poem that was sent to members of one of the e-mail groups I belong to. It was posted "author unknown," and I'm in no position to remedy that. I'm partial to it though, since I also have a rifle just like this one: the US Rifle, caliber .30, M1 — commonly known as the Garand.

Do you wonder why that rifle
Is hanging in my den?
You know I rarely take it down,
But I touch it now and then.

It's rather slow and heavy
By standards of today—
But not too many years ago
It swept the rest away.

It's held its own in battles
Through snow, or rain, or sun
And I had one just like it,
This treasured old M1.

It went ashore at Bougainville
In nineteen forty-three.
It stormed the beach at Tarawa
Through a bullet-riddled sea.

Saipan knew its strident bark,
Kwajelein, its sting.
The rocky caves of Peleliu
Resounded with its ring.

It climbed the hill on Iwo
With men who wouldn't stop
And left our nation's banner
Flying on the top.

It poked its nose in Pusan,
Screamed an angry roar
And took the First Division
From Chosin Reservoir.

Well, time moves on
And things improve
With rifles and with men,
And that is why the two of us
Are sitting in my den.

But sometimes on a winter night,
While thinking of my Corps,
I know that if the bugle blew
We'd be a team once more.

—author unknown

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