The Demons of War are Persistent

                             The Demons of War are Persistent


Thirty-eight years since my exposure to evil in Vietnam, 
And the demons of war still haunt me as an aging man

An untested youthful warrior I accepted the imminence of death; Holding fast to wartime morals, incompatible with juvenile years

As youth moves distantly behind me, vivid memories of death still persevere; Seeping through my cloak of armor I pretended invincible all these years

No end. No resolution. Nor limitations to a time; The demon voices that began as whispers, are now intensified in my mind
           
“Where were you friend?” he screamed to me, as he laid dead beside me; Tears uncontrolled I shouted back, “I tried my friend”, and clutched his lifeless body

I yelled aloud this is not real, as medics freed me from his bloodied body

Then sympathetically I said goodbye; Forever wondering if he would be alive, had I only reached him sooner 

“I have to kill!” I told myself as more brothers fell around me; And as I killed I was overwhelmed by a sick ecstasy inside me

When the killing stopped I was exhausted from the fighting, and laid down with my friends, who were alive, dead, or dying

The wounded moaned in agony, as medics struggled to salvage shattered bodies; To ease their pain and gently share their belief in God Almighty

“With all my heart I will miss you guys”, I whispered to the dead around me; I never had the chance to say, “Good-bye my friends - you saved me!” 

Rest was brief as we began to load our friends upon the choppers; In body bags filled with their gear, I promised they would not be forgotten

War goes beyond one battle so we pursued our foes, until they laid dead, had fled, or were captured;  As young men's innocence is shattered by wars’ yearning for revenge

Battle after battle I grew hard-edged in my ways, and deliberately suppressed the memories of comrades, war's atrocities, and my own spiritual decay

My tour complete I packed my gear and left the battlefields; But returning home reduced me more, as warriors were not welcome here

For years my conformation back to humanity was unclear; Confronting war’s stealth demons and suppressing intimate fears

I abandoned living comrades and endless talks of Vietnam; And tried to keep recurring nightmares in a secret chamber I code named - Don't open, horrors and lost friends of Vietnam 

To lock the mind is temporal, as I have learned throughout my years, as sounds and sights or even words unleash unwanted tears; Persistent, random nightmares, sense of failure. No recall of youthful years

Then suddenly all hell breaks lose, as my mind shifts abruptly to the past; To the agony and guilt I feel, for the friends who since long passed

Often hard to tell the difference between today and darker times, my memories are tangled, splintered, and often undefined

Over years I fought the demons steadfastly on my own; Yet won too few encounters, and learned I could never defeat them alone

So, to past and present warriors I applaud your valiant stand; But to beat persistent demons, you must accept a helping hand

Don't wait for several decades, as older veterans were forced to do; PTSD is real my friends, be assured the demons will eventually break through


                             Semper Fi!  (To ALL America's Warriors)


[Copyright 2007:  AW Schade; A Marine, Vietnam 1966/67 Lima Company, 3/5.  Schade is a retired corporate executive and author of two books: The award winning, "Looking for God within the Kingdom of Religious Confusion", and "Stop! Before you lose your time, money, and/or reputation"]