Poem
Prose
Poem
Prose
Poem
Poem
THE ELEVEN-MAN SQUAD
By Albert Whetzel, Jr., Army
Writing Type: Poem
As I
dream of that battle
I still tremble and shake,
and the guns on the warships
cannot jar me awake.
The men in my dreams
are strong, young and brave
in the eleven-man squad
on that first landing wave.
Our enemies were many
as the battle grew rough,
and we remembered Pearl Harbor,
we were trained to stand tough.
In bloody water to our knees,
no land, sand or sod,
three souls went to Heaven
from our eleven-man squad.
With bayonets fixed and ready,
it became man to man
as we searched for the enemy
beneath the coral, ash and sand.
When the second wave hit,
we took time to thank God
but three more had left
our eleven-man squad.
I saw four brave men
still in the line of fire
climb Mt. Saribachi
to raise the stripes and the stars.
Don't tell me, my friend,
generals don't pray and cry.
Jones looked over his men
with tears in his eyes.
As I awoke from my dreams,
I bowed my head to thank God.
I was one of the five
from that eleven-man squad.
I still tremble and shake,
and the guns on the warships
cannot jar me awake.
The men in my dreams
are strong, young and brave
in the eleven-man squad
on that first landing wave.
Our enemies were many
as the battle grew rough,
and we remembered Pearl Harbor,
we were trained to stand tough.
In bloody water to our knees,
no land, sand or sod,
three souls went to Heaven
from our eleven-man squad.
With bayonets fixed and ready,
it became man to man
as we searched for the enemy
beneath the coral, ash and sand.
When the second wave hit,
we took time to thank God
but three more had left
our eleven-man squad.
I saw four brave men
still in the line of fire
climb Mt. Saribachi
to raise the stripes and the stars.
Don't tell me, my friend,
generals don't pray and cry.
Jones looked over his men
with tears in his eyes.
As I awoke from my dreams,
I bowed my head to thank God.
I was one of the five
from that eleven-man squad.