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" A Soldier’s Lament"
When I was a boy in my early teens,
I fostered many wonderful dreams.
Someday I’d climb a mountain high,
So high its peaks would reach the sky.
One minute I’d be a locomotive engineer,
The next I’d be an aviator without fear.
I could be anything-and mom always said,
If I worked hard-and used my head.
Maybe I’d be a cowboy movie star,
Or the driver of the fastest racing car.
Perhaps I’d be a soldier bearing arms,
Keeping my country safe from harms.
No, I never climbed that mountain high,
Drove a locomotive-flew a plane in the sky.
I never became a great athlete or a cowboy star,
Nor did I drive the world’s fastest car.
Those were the days of the Great Depression,
When dreams were your only true possession.
But for God and Country a soldier I became,
Not famous-nor did I gain great fame.
As my life on earth Dwindles away,
I think about day dreams of a long ago day.
But if my youth I could somehow regain
For God and Country I’d be a soldier again.
Homer R. Ankrum
LTC, USA (Ret.)
1920 - 2003
Poem by LTC Homer Ankrum read at his
funeral by then NC Al Ankrum.
Now repeated here as a Memorial Day Tribute
and Ode to all WWII Veterans.
Al Ankrum, NCE
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They are trying to gentle the gender,
To civilize Western man.
They think that your thoughts are too dirty --
Not to mention your heart and your hands!
They bid us to banish our weapons,
For bravery is "macho" they say.
We must learn that weeping's not weakness --
And put it on public display.
They know not of weeping in private,
They know not how our hearts can break,
They think that a soldier's not human --
The arrogance of the mistake!
Let us charge our glasses for drinking,
A dram to our friends in the Corps,
A toast to a life worth the living --
To women and whiskey and war!
Not women to serve as our playmates,
But partners to stand at our side,
Our equals under the heavens,
And first in our hearts and our pride.
Not whiskey to burn out the senses,
But a dram of the Highland malt,
To share with our friends over stories,
And to ease the pain of our faults.
Not war as a game for the sadist,
But honor for men who would fight,
Refuse acquiescence to slavery,
And lay down their lives for the Right!
They are trying to gentle the gender,
But there are wolves in the world,
And who will answer the summons,
When a Fuhrer's next flag is unfurled?
They are trying to gentle the gender,
But when the old wolf's at the door,
They will beg for men who are living,
For women and whisky and war!
- - Robert A. Hall S.A.M.S. member #R701
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As I look to the East,
Far across a vast Sea.
I remember a past,
A smile lingers last.
Highlands seem to whisper,
A need to return there.
I see heather in bloom,
Beginning in June.
I will not forget thee,
Warms thoughts come to calm me.
Etched forever in stone,
Standing proud alone.
In this land which we're free,
Praising down on bent knee.
As I turn to the West,
I still love thee best.
Martha J. Walls
I dedicated the poem to my mother and father,
and my Scottish ancestors that helped to lay
the foundations of our great nation,
the United States of America.
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Look yonder all ye Tartans
Behold our Brave and Bold
Our Bonny Lads and Lasses
Clad in the mornin' cold
Gathered 'round our Country's colors
Like wee Bairn to their Mother's skirt
They are our Sons and Daughters
Gone off to do our Freedom's work
And as they stand awaitin'
To meet the Battle's cry
Across the ages echoes
"We Must Do Or We Must Die!"
Now deep in their souls
there lives and ancient call
To fight for right and freedom
Not just for one, but for us all
So take up the Pipes and play them
And to their trill let your Tartans swirl
For today we celebrate our heritage
Each Celtic Man, each Celtic Woman,
each wee boy and each wee girl
God Bless the Land of Our Freedom
God Keep Those Who Keep Us Free
For without America's Soldiers
America Wouldn't Be!
Dolly A.R.Elliott-Hames
Tartan Day 2005
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Loved ones may be dead and gone;
You just have to carry on.
On this loved ones shirt,
Perhaps, there was a chevron.
They may have been brothers -
or sisters in arms;
A father, a mother,
A brother, a husband a wife.
Your loved one has gone on to the other side;
The pain in your heart cries and cries -
Some don't understand and don't abide.
In the end there must be a surmise.
As long as you remember your kith and kin;
Remember the good times, and even the bad times too!
Remember them in your heart and mind.
You will not have to say to your loved ones adieu!
There must be something beyond this life,
Where loved ones meet and greet each other.
Where there is an end to the pain and strife,
That is caused by loved ones passing over.
Roland Lewis Behunin
14 November 2005
SAMS Post 1847
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In ages past,
and times of yore -
The Celtic Clans would war.
The pipes were banned.
The Highland Games began.
The flags were flying,
The anthems they did sing,
The clans marched,
The dancers danced a fling.
The Chieftain spoke.
In the modern age
The caber toss -
The pipers piped
Some have won,
And some have lost.
The clans have tents,
The vendors booths,
Scottish Kilts for sale or rent.
A dentist to pull your tooth.
All on a Scottish Holiday
Roland Lewis Behunin
July 2005
SAMS Post 1847
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