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Why can’t we all just get along?

A FEW GOOD MEN
HIGH ON A HILL IN SOUTH VIETNAM,
A HANDFUL OF MEN ARE GROUPED AS ONE,
JUST A LONELY PLACE THAT WILL BRING NO FAME,
THEY HOLD A POSITION WITHOUT ANY NAME,
KNOWING VC ARE ALL AROUND,
THEY WATCH AND WAIT WITHOUT A SOUND,
HE MUST KNOW HIS JOB AND KNOW IT WELL,
EXPERIENCE IS HIS TEACHER, AND THIS WILL TELL,
EACH HAS A THOUGHT OF HIS HOME FAR AWAY,
HOPING AND PRAYING HE’LL RETURN SOMEDAY,
WHAT SLEEP HE GETS IS ON THE LAND,
A HELMET HIS PILLOW, ALWAYS AT HAND,
HIS WORK GOES ON NIGHT AND DAY,
HE DOES A MIGHTY BIG JOB FOR SO LITTLE PAY,
I THINK BY NOW YOU KNOW WHO I MEAN,
THIS COULD ONLY BE A U.S. MARINE.
Corporal, Timothy J. Ives
07/11/1946-04/30/1967

Written by a high school buddy of my cousin Art Bird a few days before he lost his life in Viet Nam in 1967.