This story is about a buddie of mine,
whose life ws taken in a very short time.
He was only a kid of eighteen years,
And now his mother is shedding her tears.
Jerry came over one cold rainy day,
To try and kill us and then get away.
My duddie and I were maning the gun,
And we had this Jerry on the run.
But Ho! In back of us came two more
So after more "ANG", my buddie tore.
He was almost back when I heard the cry,
Give them Hell Rose, or we'll all die.
As fast as I could, I turned around,
And I saw my buddie lying on the ground.
I couldn't leave the gun to give him a hand,
And I knew the pain was Hell to stand.
Jerry, he left, I don't know the cause,
So I ran to my buddie to see how he was.
My first look told me he was already dead.
A machine gun bullet went right through his head.
I've seen them come and go before,
But this one hurt me all the more.
This War is something you can't explain,
When up on the front line bearing the pain.
Only God can understand,
What war means to a front-line man.
Back home before the people strike,
I wish the'd think about this fight.
Think of my buddie and a million others,
Who won't get back to see their mothers.
He's gone for good but I'll remember the time,
That I always had with that buddie of mine.
By. J.D. Rose
J.D. is buried at Evergreen Cemetery in Jacksonville, alongside his mother, baby sister and grandfather.