Poems by Tony Adams
Sgt Tony Adams was a rifleman serving with Bravo Co in early 1968. These poems were written long after Tony returned home. They reflect many of the same thoughts I am sure we have all dwelled upon over the years. -  Sarge
By Tony Adams
Bravo 2/12
October 22, 2000

When I was young I had a chance to play a deadly game
No matter what the end result, my life would never be the same.
It was a game of life and death; the stakes were high indeed
I missed the finer points of it, because I paid it all no heed

I played the game quite often, not always happily
At each contest end I always won, striving to be free
It mattered not how well I played; I played to stay alive
No matter what the odds I could not take the dive

At my young age, I never asked or bothered to find out why
Some must live and play again and some must surely die
We continued to play the game; when the outcome was so clear
We played the game for keeps because it lasted but a year

The opponent was always death; he plays a bastardís game
When you think you have him beat, heíll always come again
What I did not understand when the game was finally done
No matter how many times I cheated Death, Death had always won

There eventually came a time when the game was set to play
I was prepared and ready but it was not my turn that day
He played quite well and hard and could have passed the test
He lost the game and then his life, his soul was sent to rest

Because he took my place that day and paid the highest debt
I know not why I was left alive and still living even yet
I could not change the outcome, so I buckled to the load
Through many years of ups and downs the truth was never told

As time when by I forgot the game and overcame the fear
I never really understood the cost of that one-year
It started out so slowly that I never really knew
The damage done and hidden to all but a chosen few

In later years I thought I knew and then I wondered why
Some were made to live and while others had to die
I came to hate the funerals for all the dying ghost
But it was the early dying that I hated more than most

I never feared my own sure death, it has always been a given
It was always my own living that I have never quite forgiven
I know not why the others died and I was left alone
But the load has gotten heavy as I make my journey home.

When people die before their time, it is always so unfair
But after several years or months no one really cares
Itís only when you think about the things they could have done
The battles they could have fought, the ones they could have won

I have had my share of fun and more than most could ever ask
Life has been quite good to me; itís not really too great a task
But this last year has been quite hard for the gameís begun anew
Itís not the same game of old but the stakes are no less few

Iíve lost a loving mother and brother that was mine
One died at a grand old age, the other too short of time
I have no doubt that both have gone to a better resting-place
But thereís no one left here on earth to fill the empty space

My mother was an angel, the purist soul Iíve ever known
She never spoke ill of any; good seeds were always sewn
She was the glue that bound the bonds of a family often scattered
No matter what the crisis was, her love was all that mattered

He was the son of my motherís sister, not really a brother to me
But as long as I live and breathe, a brother he will always be
We were soul mates from the beginning, over many days and years
I cannot bring him back to me, no matter the amount of tears

The ultimate game of life goes on where the end result is sure
Itís how you play the game that counts and helps you to endure
Iíve never quite forgiven death for the course that it has taken
Why some must live and some must die, the rest of us forsaken
By Robert Adams
Bravo 2/12
April 4, 2008

It lasted but a year, my war in Vietnam
I returned to the United States so calm
Twelve short months was all it took
Not even long enough to write a decent book

At first I did not worry or dwell upon the past
Peaceful memories that would not last
But still it kept fermenting making not a sign
Thatís all required to make a bitter wine

Slowly it began to raise its head again
Some canít remember where or when
Days forgotten just like another date
Yet it stuck in my memory 4 Apr of 68

Like a birthday or anniversary so sure
Not too happy a time but no less pure
It kept repeating every year by year
It kept coming back with growing fear

Two young men with a future still ahead
Yet for forty years they have been dead
Who would know that it would all end in 1968
And I would still be mourning in the year 2008

For forty years, I have wondered why
Some must live and some must die
At sixty-two I wonder if the life that I have made
Could ever be worth the price that they have paid.

There were many others come and gone
Peaceful now they are not alone
But Ozzie and Rosey remain with me still
I guess until I die they always will.
Tony Adams
Bravo 2/12

Somewhere there is a soldier in the frozen snow
It was not a choice he made but he was told to go

Somewhere there is a soldier in the burning sand
A decision made not by him but by another man

Somewhere there is a soldier in the dark and churning sea
She was sent there to protect us both including you and me

Somewhere there is a soldier in the restless stormy sky
High above the ground and all alone he continues still to fly

Somewhere there is a soldier in the training field
Learning how to live for days without a decent meal

Somewhere there is a soldier with a medics bag and kit
Anxiously awaiting for the call from another soldier hit

Somewhere there is a soldier in a single hospital bed
Missing limbs and wounded but at least he is not dead

Somewhere there is a soldier in a loving mother's heart
There they will always remain even thought they are apart

Somewhere there is a soldier in an old vet's memory
He will never be forgotten or make another reveille

Somewhere there is a soldier in a cold and darken grave
We should all be very thankful for the gift of life he gave

As we celebrate another year of living well and getting older

Poems by Tony Adams