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I was born in ’34 near the California shore, Where life was good, whether we were rich or poor. We moved around a lot, but I never asked what for, And my friends came and went like a revolving door. We lived all around the world on many different shores, So, my life was certainly anything but a bore. When I was eight, and my dad was thirty-four, He went off to fight in the Second World War. He said it was a soldier’s duty and nothing more, And such is the life of a man in the Marine Corps. My mom stopped working in the spring of ’44, When dad returned home labeled a hero of war. Two years later, when my little sister turned four, My dad left the service and opened up a store. I was twelve years old and helped out with many chores, But the life I enjoyed was my life in the outdoors. When I turned eighteen, I enlisted in the Corps, Just like my father, and his father before. I thought it was a chance to see the world and explore, But, little did I know, that I was going off to war. I turned twenty years old in the summer of ’54, One year to the day since the end of the Korean War. Never again did I want to see all that blood and gore, But years later, I was thrown into another country’s war. Vietnam was a place I’d never heard of before, Yet, there I was, in the middle of someone else’s war. I never fully understood what we were there for, But I never questioned my duty to the Corps. I spent many years crawling around on the jungle floor, Trying to settle someone else’s bloody score. We were losing men by the thousands, yet came thousands more, Because politicians were in charge from a distant shore. I got out of Vietnam in the spring of ’64, And that was the end of my career in the Corps. My son turned eighteen in the winter of ’84, Joined the Marines, and moved to the California shore. I told him to make me a promise and he swore, To never fight unless he knew what he was fighting for. I’ve seen enough blood and it’s impossible to ignore, The fact that war is hell, and hell is going to war.
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