MEMORIAL DAY

Crew cut, fatigues, and dusty polished boots
We met that first roll call before mess.
Forming up alphabetically giving 'present' hoots
You see he was the last R and I was for first S.

Three months as captives of the training command
It was war and how to war we tried to understand.
Always with 'this can save your life' we were bored
He said 'I wish my time here could be stored.'

Three months of weekend passes bussing into nearby town
Where with little money and not into buying women we drank
Latter when orders came, life for the first 87 names sank
And rose for next 19, separated by fate's alphabetic clown.

You see he was an R and I was an S
He was sent over there and died in that mess.

Memorial day, 1977 remembering a friend and some good times.