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Let’s Just Say
A friend of ours was asked by some reporter how he viewed
the war his only son had gone to fight in and had died.
His face went limp, his breathing paused his eyes welled up with tears,
and all who heard the answer stood transfixed as he replied:
“Me and all my fam’ly, sir, are desperate to believe
the cause for which he died was worth his life, and though we’ve tried,
Most of us are struggling to accept the reason why,
though some, I know, have found a bit of solace in our pride.
We feel the war that took his life gives cause for some debate,
for some have surely stretched the truth—and some have actually lied—
But let’s just say the truth was told, so we can thereby temper
weakened hearts and calm suspicions festering deep inside.
And let’s just say with time the pain I feel from our son’s absence
fin’ly does subside into a hell I can abide,
And I have reached a void where numbness, every now and then,
kindly, out of deference to the million tears I’ve cried,
Lets me sleep one night without a nightmare—even then
I curse with all my heart and soul the day that he complied!”
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Mark Stellinga is a poet and antiques dealer residing in Iowa. He has often won the annual adult-division poetry contests sponsored by the University of Iowa Writer’s Workshop, has had many pieces posted in several magazines and sites over the past 60 years, including Poem-Hunter.com, PoetrySoup.com, and Able Muse.com—where he won the 1st place prize for both ‘best poem’ of the year and ‘best book of verse.’
Your poem and the accompanying artwork reminds me of ONE OF OUR OWN , a novel of WWI written by Willa Cather that won the Pulitzer . A parent can never fully process the grief.
You’re so right, Margaret. I’m thinking they made a movie based on that book.
I’ll have to Google it – Merry X-mas –
Mark, you do well to bare deepest sentiments of families and friends who have lost loved ones. Rarely are they so explicit. Even though Vietnam was not lost in the field, but in the halls of Congress, that makes no difference to the grieving. I know your poem concerns other conflicts as well, but allow me to post here the online place to seek memorials of those fallen in Vietnam: https://www.virtualwall.org/
Connie and I have family and relatives who’ve been emotionally devastated by America’s many conflicts, Margaret – and you’re right, there’s no escaping it, and thank you for the thoughtful post.
This is a very movingly-told story, Mark, whether it is re-told (as I suspect) or imagined. The friend who answers the reporter’s question is fully believable and relatable, and no one with the smallest bit of compassion would think about arguing with him, whatever his or her opinion about any specific war, or war in general. We can only try to empathize while knowing we can’t even begin to imagine the pain.
Thank you for the kind words, Cynthia. When I was 15, just watching my older brother board a plane for Vietnam was enough to seer a memory into my mind of the fear of never seeing a loved one again. Here’s another piece inspired by my wife’s brother’s war-inflicted social awkwardness noticed by one and all upon his return from that same waste of ‘Life’.
The Bartender
He seemed a little out of place when he walked in that night. The bar was pretty crowded, it was nearly 10 p.m.
He slid a little money on the bar and grabbed a beer, then found his way to where the smoke was thick and light was dim.
I’d never seen the guy before. He looked a bit uneasy. He slowly twisted off the cap then took a hefty drink.
I watched him rather closely, as he sat there, all alone, just starin’ at the table, an’ I’ll tell you what I think.
I think the guy was feelin’ kind-a low. He looked – defeated! It wasn’t long before he flagged the barmaid for a hit.
And for about an hour more he kept ‘em right on comin,’ but still, somehow, the way he poured ‘em down just didn’t fit!
He looked as though he’d given up — like ‘Life’ had let ‘im down. He’d sit and stare, then briefly swing his head from side to side.
Then, softly lit by neon lights, immersed in clouds of smoke, I watched the poor young fella as he broke right down an’ cried!
This was not the first time that I’d seen a man in tears, but as he sat there, all alone, it almost broke my heart.
I’ve seen this kind of thing before, but never quite like this, and I could only wonder what it was that made him start.
Maybe someone close to him had died, or fallen ill. Maybe he’d been cheating, and his wife had found him out.
Maybe he’d discovered that his wife had been unfaithful. But as I sat there wonderin’ what the tears were all about,
I turned and asked a local patron – one I thought might know – “Ever seen that youngster, gettin’ drunk there, in the back?”
“Yes, I have,” the old guy answered… “that’s the boy from Wilton. He’s the one that just returned from serving in Iraq!
No matter how ‘just’ a war may seem, it’s not usually the politicians who lose their lives.
Thanks for reminding us where the losses are most felt, Mark.
Paul, I’d like to get a count on how many politicians’ children ever saw genuine combat. Specifically ‘COMBAT’. Very few I’ll wager. Thanks for your comment.
This is a very moving poem, Mark, on such a heartbreaking subject. You treat this subject firmly but with tact. “A hell I can abide” is a powerful phrasing and the use of the first person for the lion’s share of the poem makes it far more immediate and raw. Well done. And isn’t it interesting that you don’t specify WHICH war. You don’t have to.
Thanks, Brian. The only thing that kept me from being shipped over was high blood pressure! Far from the only issue I’ve had to contend with in my 74 years, but the very unexpected one that saved me from both being killed – at 18 – and killing other human beings. Two of my classmates were taken the same day. A good and a bad day in one for me.
Mark,
1. I empathize with the loss of loved ones in a war. Those of us who were in the military always pray for peace; however, duty to God, country, and family (including self-defense) is worth their noble sacrifice. I made it to Vietnam and was shot at by land, water, and air, but I felt if I died, it was for a noble cause. My daughter was an officer in the Signal Corps and was sent to Bosnia for one year and to Baghdad for another. My son was a sniper stationed near Fallujah and saw action for a year. They were both Christians and served a noble cause. Although I often prayed for their safety, I was proud of their commitment. If either one died in a war, I would fall back on the belief God had a plan for their lives. I never had stress or had anxiety for my safety or for theirs. My commanders often commented on my ability to remain calm under pressure, but I was always relaxed, like I was playing a game.
2. Margaret is right about winning the war on the ground and losing the peace. When I was an Army Attache in Moscow, I was at a meeting of the Moscow Association of Military Attaches gathering, a North Vietnamese General who was close to General Giap, the commander of their forces told us he was ready to unconditionally surrender within one week, but the Americans stopped the bombing of Hanoi.
3. I remember reading somewhere that one was more likely to die from a car accident at the time than in the war.
4. I believe in just wars, not in politicized endings that give everything away for which we have fought the good fight as in Vietnam and Afghanistan with its precipitous withdrawal..
Roy, I’d rather risk my life ‘on the road’ than on the battle field of course, but, I agree, sacrificing ones life for an ‘appropriate’ cause is certainly worth the gamble. What amazing life you’ve led. Thanks for sharing your perspective.
Merry X-mas.
Merry Christmas, Mark.
Beautifully crafted and achingly poignant, Mark. May God grant you peace.
Daniel, the 60s are so far behind me that what inspired this piece has dulled to a comparatively faint bad-memory, but thank you for the thoughtful blessing.
God’s been a great help throughout my life – Merry X-mas.
I love the title and imagine that the phrase “let’s just say” has been used many times to justify the unjustifiable.
Many times indeed, Warren. Thanks for commenting & Merry Christmas.
Mark, ‘Let’s Just Say’ tugs at the heart with the rawness of grief captured in every line of the father’s message. It is evident that a lot of feeling was put into this poem. It reminds me of “Our Boy Jack” – a film about Rudyard Kipling’s tragic loss of his son during WWI. These lines speak volumes: “Me and all my fam’ly, sir, are desperate to believe / the cause for which he died was worth his life…” a point worth making in the midst of our seemingly endless and futile wars fought over the past few decades. At what cost and to what ends? Thank you, for this though-provoking piece.