Why?

by Robert Maxwell O'Kane

Those of us who somehow survived

have to wonder—why?

Standing, walking, running, seeking shelter in a hole

we all shared the chance of a hidden mine

Of random bullets, whispered mortars and screaming 88's

which, at times, seemed to aimed right at each of us

But, for reasons we shall never fathom

these messages of death found them—not us

We have to wonder—why?

Were we more careful, more alert, better trained

Were they more daring, less fearful, less restrained

we have to wonder—why?

Why Klein and Marlett and Primmar and Miller

why them instead of one of us?

Why Albritton and Bartlett and Gilbreath and Lucas

why them instead of one of us?

Why Goss and Dreugos and O'Brien and Gill and Glade

why them instead of one of us?

Why McDonnell and Sommer and Bardoni and Weaver

why them instead of one of us?

Why Thurmond and Gibson and Jones and Barbour

why them instead of one of us?

Why Martini and Profitt and Paige and Friday

why them instead of one of us?

Why Morrett and Taylor and Konopka and Tiffany

why them instead of one of us?

Why Marino and Preston and Benedict and Evenson

why them instead of one of us?

Why Orleski and Tollefson and Crawford and Manno

why them instead of one of us?

Why Parker and Ramsey and Laniano ... and Valdez

why them instead of one of us?

The list is only partial—but these men we knew

sometimes only fleetingly, for a few only a bit longer

Why did some die—always, it seemed, so quietly

what singled them out—and allowed us to come through?

What would they say if they were here to talk?

I would venture to guess

They would join us who could speak

and ask—WHY?

Robert Maxwell O'Kane |  Foreword |  Dogface Soldier 
Stories Part 1 |  Stories Part 2 |  To A Medic |  Why