In 1966 he was just a young boy
And I was younger still.
That was the year he decided
He had a duty to fulfill.
He was young, strong and fit
And he felt invincible.
He went to war to chase adventure,
More than to support a principle.
He dreamt of John Wayne glory
From movies watched on the silver screen.
He imagined himself as hometown hero
In welcome home parades scene by scene.

But while my brother fought in the jungle
Our country had a social revolution;
Which resulted in changed beliefs,
And brought down our institutions.
When once to serve our country
Was considered honorable,
It had become a murderous act
That was now unpardonable.

In 1968 my brother was still a young boy.
And I was younger still.
When they came to tell my parents,
“Last week your only son was killed.”
My mother cried endless tears,
My dad was silent, simply stunned.
Time froze for an eternal moment
For my family’s future to come undone.
The nation offered us no thank you,
No parades were planned or held.
The heartfelt sympathy we deserved
Was shamelessly withheld.
For, while in my childish eyes
My brother was a hero,
The protesters on the nightly news
Told me that wasn’t so
They said he was a baby killer;
They said he burnt unarmed villages.
They called him a common criminal;
Who killed, and raped and pillaged.

Now 50 long years later,
The nation wants to honor
Those whom they had forsaken
And used as cannon fodder.
They tell the world they’re thankful,
They tell the survivors that they care.
But their gratitude cannot replace
My childhood lost to dark nightmares.
The nightmares of a little girl
Whose brother did not come back.
A little girl bombarded by
The nightly new attacks.
About her brother who was a monster.
About the babies that he killed.
As she suffered in perplexed silence
With the guilt those words instilled.
Because she couldn’t ask her mother
Who still cried in her sleep each night.
And her father was simply silent
Locked in the guilt he had to fight.
Her sister was completely lost to her
As she blindly courted trouble.
So the girl chose isolation
In a perfect self-made bubble.
For years she trusted no one.
Found safety only in isolation.
Hidden from the damage done
From the years of accusations.
No one could get close to her
For, she felt severely broken.
A long-held and dreaded fear
Of which she’d never spoken.
A fear began on that day
Her family’s dreams were crushed.
And then one day she realized
They had taught her to distrust.
Back when her brother was a young boy,
And she was younger still.
And two men knocked on her door to say,
“Last week your only son was killed.
©Linda Troxell 10/10/2016