Decoration Day

Decoration Day

The week before Decoration Day

To each veteran’s plot we’d go

To mow and clean up,

To plant flags to fly,

And sow some seeds to grow.

To be there.

To remember.

To honor.

The ancestors would somehow know.

So to each cemetery we’d go—

Woodland, The Bradshaw Cemetery,

Some on hilltops behind farmhouses,

Some in the woods or along

John’s Creek, Elkin’s Creek, and more…

Some easy access,

Some quite a climb.

Did the spirits see us there?

Were they comforted that the dead were not forgotten?

That their sacrifices were honored?

Then we’d go home.

Fly the flag.

Fix a family feast to be eaten after

The Parade…

The traditions are the same now

Even though they changed the name.

Memorial or Decoration…

The ancestors somehow would know.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.

All rights reserved.

“Macam Tiae Lembu!”

“Macam Tiae Lembu!”

(Malay for “Sounds Like a Cow Shitting!”)

For My Husband Avalon Ajang Ledong—

Royal Malaysian Army, Sarawak Rangers

Army training can be a chore;

In boot camp, abuse is piled on more.

You can train both days and nights

And don’t you worry about your rights…

For you have none.

Drill sergeant will bark if you are wrong.

Sometimes he’ll make you bark along.

You’ll not be left to be long idled.

You’ll find to what you’re entitled…

If you live long.

Marching here, marching there;

You’ll go marching everywhere.

You’ll go marching in the rain.

You’ll be marching while insane.

You’ll go marching up a hill.

Oh, you’ll like the marching drill.

When marching sergeant says you stop,

Don’t you let your feet ker-plop.

Just one POP he wants to hear

Or he’ll shout straight in your ear…

“Macam tiae lembu!”

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.

All rights reserved.

Hard Facts Harder Faced

Hard Facts Harder Faced

Who said our soldiers could not be psychos?

Who said we always are saints?

Where is it written we do the right thing

And never show evil or taint?

War is hell, lest we forget it,

And crimes of war even much more…

Can we train a human to kill, not to feel,

Without evil allowed in that door?

Rape is a tool and an agent of war.

So is massacre, torture, mayhem.

Even a good man can snap to a monster

And live only to slay ‘em.

None of us are guiltless, much to our pain,

But we are trapped in this way,

If ever we forget the humanity of victims

From Coshocton to Mai Lai.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.

All rights reserved.

And Still the Channel to Cross

And Still the Channel to Cross

Looking around,

Nerves stretched taut,

The winds and waters churning.

All are pale.

None will return.

Deep terror in us burning.

Normandy,

Damn those cliffs,

A beach changed to bloody swampland…

Though thousands die

To win that beach

From Hell’s elitist command.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.

All rights reserved.

Ironton’s Memorial Day Parade

Ironton’s Memorial Day Parade

To remember to honor and to celebrate,

To decorate the graves of those who fought…

Ironton parades through most of the middle of town—

Bands, floats, horses, clowns…

But most of all, people—

People of all types and ages.

Used to be said, if you were able,

You marched.

Whole classes of school children marched.

Men alongside the streets took off their hats,

And everyone put a hand to heart.

I remember the hours of preparation:

With chicken wire and tissue on trucks,

The band practices and marches,

Or, even Brownies getting scout cheers and songs right…

To ride in a squad car, a fire truck or an Army-Navy Duck…

Just to be in The Parade.

Now people come from everywhere to see our parade,

Our Parade…longest lasting…and proud.

May the graves be decorated,

The flag flown free;

May the flowers thrown on the River

Say thank you for liberty…

And may Ironton ever be able

To march for memory.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.

All rights reserved.

Flashback to Mekong: The War in Viet Nam

Flashback to Mekong: The War in Viet Nam

For Dustin Massie, Daniel Massie, David Massie,

Wayne Massie, and James Delong, My Cousins Who

All served willingly and honorably

And still the evil fought through lives

In minds and bodies all tattered

With memories of a limb or an ear

Or a child blown up and scattered.

Flashback to the now of the time when we hid

From the nightmare of still living

With a best friend’s right arm,

All that was left, of the life he was giving…

For a country who hated us…

In a country who hated us…

No reprieve.

Nineteen years old and proud of this land

Of our birth, our family, and teaching,

Many were drafted, so they couldn’t say no,

Regardless of the masses loud screeching.

War heroes, yeah right, stoned out of our minds

Blinding to terrors more real

Than any horror king knows,

And in our souls they live with us still…

For a country who hated us…

In a country who hated us…

No reprieve.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.

All rights reserved.

A Mother Cries for Her Fallen Son

A Mother Cries for Her Fallen Son

For Mrs. Goldcamp, Our Neighbor

Never will the guns be so silent

As the silence after death

Of those fallen to fight “the cause juste.”

Is a common life so shorn

Or youth so plentiful

To be offered up this way

By the wrathful God

Who has known not childbirth

Nor the enfolding of life

Into one’s arms, one’s heart, one’s womb?

In righting wrongs,

Did my son, my own,

Die suffering?

Did he fear the end when it came?

Did he know my love

Would outlast the grave…

Was this just cause worth this blood sacrifice

Offered to the God of war…

That tears my heart always?

Ah, my son, brave man and true,

Willing soldier, mother’s pride,

Well fought against madmen gone berserk

Setting the world on fire again.

Sleep now, my son,

For the guns are now dreadfully silent

But still at ready for

Another mother’s son.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.

All rights reserved

The Korean War

The Korean War

For John Lewis Bradshaw, My Father

That blue square with the white letters

When sited target makes

Upon helmet or upon uniform,

Coppery, salty red lakes.

It’s not our war, but we are there

To save a peninsula from Red Peril,

We carry the war, to our dismay,

Like fish caught in a barrel.

A human wave poured out upon

The Father against the Son…

Divide them up and let them have

Demilitarized zone, not won…

Then let our soldiers coming out

Find a Red Cross no friend…

Not only give blood to pay blood

But also their own coins they spend.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.

All rights reserved.

A Moment to Honor: My Tribute for Armistice/Veteran's Day

A Moment to Honor: My Tribute for Armistice/Veteran's Day

written on Nov 11, 2005

So many of my kinfolk have been military folk...and some still are. My grandfather (Army) fought in both WWI and WWII...even fighting under Patton... My dad (Marine) was in Korea, and his only brother (Navy) was in Viet Nam. The list goes on. All my kinfolk, to my knowledge, who fought were combat vets...many having lost parts of their bodies and/or having lingering health and other problems due to that combat experience.

On the other side of the world, my hubby was Malaysian Royal Army, Sarawak Rangers.

We have an Admiral, a General, a nuclear sub Commander, even nurses and other medical folk from our family represented...male and female... many age groups.

Those too ill, too old, disabled, etc. who could not go stayed and did fulltime support of troups...always. Always.

The tears and heartache... the fear and worry... the pride and joy in having our loved ones home again... the commitment to PEACE! No more wars!!! is strong. So strong.

I am anti-militarism, but never, ever, ever am I nor will I ever be anti-military. Our people have given so much for us ... and will continue to do so. We need protection ... not empire but protection ... there is difference, as you all know. And, they ... our sons, our daughters, our cousins, our neighbors, our people ... even our adopted people who are now embraced in our bosom ... need our support and respect.

Orange poppies, white crosses, old parrot riffles and caissons...

I will remember. I will love. I will hold sacred their sacrifices and the sacrifices of all who have fallen... on all sides. Their blood still sings out from the ground. Their blood...my blood...our blood... we are all connected.

With love and bittersweet honor,
Daphne Bradshaw

(C) 11 November 2005, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

“Macam Tiae Lembu!”

“Macam Tiae Lembu!”
(Malay for “Sounds Like a Cow Shitting!”)
For My Husband Avalon Ajang Ledong—
Royal Malaysian Army, Sarawak Rangers

Army training can be a chore;
In boot camp, abuse is piled on more.
You can train both days and nights
And don’t you worry about your rights…
For you have none.

Drill sergeant will bark if you are wrong.
Sometimes he’ll make you bark along.
You’ll not be left to be long idled.
You’ll find to what you’re entitled…
If you live long.

Marching here, marching there;
You’ll go marching everywhere.
You’ll go marching in the rain.
You’ll be marching while insane.
You’ll go marching up a hill.
Oh, you’ll like the marching drill.

When marching sergeant says you stop,
Don’t you let your feet ker-plop.
Just one POP he wants to hear
Or he’ll shout straight in your ear…
“Macam tiae lembu!”

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.
All rights reserved.

Hard Facts Harder Faced

Hard Facts Harder Faced

Who said our soldiers could not be psychos?
Who said we always are saints?
Where is it written we do the right thing
And never show evil or taint?

War is hell, lest we forget it,
And crimes of war even much more…
Can we train a human to kill, not to feel,
Without evil allowed in that door?

Rape is a tool and an agent of war.
So is massacre, torture, mayhem.
Even a good man can snap to a monster
And live only to slay ‘em.

None of us are guiltless, much to our pain,
But we are trapped in this way,
If ever we forget the humanity of victims
From Coshocton to Mai Lai.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.
All rights reserved.

The Sand Flea Funeral

The Sand Flea Funeral

Welcome to Parris Island,
Some news skills you will command.
That even the Devil left this place—
Said he needed a cooler space.

So let me tell you what’s the story.
You do what I say, you morning glory.
If I decide to say you stand,
Don’t you dare move a hand.

If a sand flea bites your face,
Soldier, don’t you me disgrace.
If you cannot let him pass—
Slap him, pansy, I’ll have your ass!

For that Sand Flea is a Marine Corps bug—
Kill it, and you’re just a slimy slug.
Full Marine Corps burial you will give.
So, I strongly advise you: Let the bug live.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.
All rights reserved.

Never Forget: War Is Hell

Never Forget: War Is Hell
With that joystick of computerized toys,
You destroy the enemy most foul—
From your safe distance.
But, your unaffectedness cloys…
Deep grumblings, gurgling in the bowel—
Older veterans’ sentence.

What your safe distance doesn’t show,
You think everything’s just fine
Except you might be bored.
The misery you don’t know
Could get you without much sign
Until you have been gored.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.
All rights reserved.

Never Forget: War Is Hell

Never Forget: War Is Hell

With that joystick of computerized toys,
You destroy the enemy most foul—
From your safe distance.
But, your unaffectedness cloys…
Deep grumblings, gurgling in the bowel—
Older veterans’ sentence.

What your safe distance doesn’t show,
You think everything’s just fine
Except you might be bored.
The misery you don’t know
Could get you without much sign
Until you have been gored.
© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000. All rights reserved.

My Various Thoughts on "The Kill Team"

The article in Rolling Stone:

The Kill TeamHow U.S. soldiers in Afghanistan murdered innocent civilians and mutilated their corpses – and how their officers failed to stop them. Plus: An exclusive look at the war crime photos censored by the Pentagon
http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/the-kill-team-20110327

My various thoughts on this article and heartbreakingly evil tale:

When the aim of boot camp is to break the spirit of the human recruit, to instill an "obey at all costs automatically" reflex, to despise the "enemy" (including "Suzy Q",) -- in short to become an efficient killing machine, it is no surprise to find the human then loses a sense of morals, develops a ruthlessness & a cold-bloodedness, etc. That is what allows the human to kill other humans and to destroy whole environments without qualm.  Deep down almost all soldiers and combatants know the evil they did willingly or were forced to do when, perhaps, their reasons for joining in the first place were nobler or even out of desperation (economic terrorism comes to mind.) And, PTSD hits hard once the traumas of war hit that inner core of the human. Some will never ever recover. None come out without very deep gaping wounds in their minds, hearts, and spirits.

And yet, humans seem to want to kill each other over so many things-- greedy things, covetous things, jealous things, stupid things... "I am better than you because I can maim, torture, and kill you if you don't do what I say, hand over all I want from you, or just get in my way at the wrong time." Psychopaths may lead and start the wars, and are so cowardly not to fight in them themselves, but the ones who go into combat are most often volunteers, willing to kill, maim, torture, and be killed, maimed, tortured, etc. for ... what? A paycheck? Honor? Glory? Lies. All lies.

And my heart breaks for the soldiers, for their victims, for us all. We are all culpable in this. All of us. Hatred and evil are equal opportunity inhabitants of humans.

And so the soldiers come home with PTSD and the learned skills of destroying life. Many turn to abuse - of others or of self. Many go insane to find some escape from the terror of what the saw and what they did. No one at home recognizes the returning soldier really. How could someone not familiar with all out evil really know that deep abyss the soldier is trying to return from? But, that does not excuse that we all sent the soldier out to do exactly what was done. Nor does it excuse our refusing to take the soldier back and care for those many deep wounds. We sent them out to die period.

I am not anti-military. We need a defense, especially since humans are as we are. But, I am anti-militarism. I am pro-peace and pro-non-violence. We humans must learn a new way of being. We must learn to stop making war and violence. We must learn how to forgive and be compassionate, to show mercy while keeping justice. We must or perish together. We can do it. The question is will we?

29 March 2011, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw