They didn’t wait to see if people would say It was a good war or a bad war. They stood up, and said: “I’ll go.”
Some of them didn’t come back. Some lie in graves around the world whose whereabouts, Only God knows.
As political as all conflicts are, The deaths of these men and women Lift them far above such mere considerations.
They’re up on that hilltop there, Where the sunbeams are shining on them.
We owe these brothers and sisters of ours
Of their bravery. And you can’t talk about bravery Without talking about fear.
May I tell you my story? I was a captain in the infantry. I commanded a rifle company In the bright green jungles of Vietnam.