The Men Of The One-Two-Four

                       by Archie Peers

 
 We're older now and have all but forgotten the instant jar
to reality with the shrill command of the "top kicks" whistle
                   in the company street.

   They were the make ready days before the mud, the blood
             and the stench of the days to come.
The jungle trails, the bridges blown and the bone tired ache
                        to the core.

    A mothers prayer, a father hope, a promised love half
                    a world away at home.
    All part of every wretched mile of the Pacific trail
              for the men of the one-two-four.

     We manage a reunion of sorts from time to time and
reminisce in disbelief at images of ourselves from the past.
       And we remember Morotai, Colgan Woods and the
                      bloody Driniumor.

  We part again, to each his own, ever mindful through all
                      the fog and mist.
   We were and are until our final hour, the ghosts of the
                        one-two-four.

Written by Archie Peers, Company F, 124th Infantry Regt., 31st Dixie Division

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Source: http://www.grunts.net/poetry/menof124.html

Transcribed by Paul M. Webber on 16 February 2002
Home Page: http://home.pcisys.net/~pwebber/31_id/rtw.htm