Beauty Out Of War

The following is a poem written from Korea by my father while he was serving in the U.S. Army during the Korean War.  I found it a few years ago, but am only now posting an entry concerning its contents.  The poem is typed "As Is", so the grammatical and punctuation errors are intentional on my part.  Enjoy!

A Prayer At Christmas (by Phillip Carter Schwab)

It was Christmas eve, a few years ago,

As I stood in a land of hill and snow.

I was a soldier, and a watch I kept

On my country's enemy who never slept.

My body was tired, but my eyes were bright,

Watching the hills to my left, to my right.

The terrane was bare, nothing seemed alarming,

And I prayed for a peaceful Christmas morning.

My thoughts were of home, of Mother and Dad

Of last Christmas' presents, the dinner we had;

I thought of rotation, just sixty more days,

"I'll be out of this Hell, or in my grave.".

The machine gun was loaded, grenades were at hand.

"Let the 'Red Horde' attack we'll make a stand."

The enemy respected nothing, Christmas the least;

He wounded and killed us, like a vulture at feast.

Something sounded in front, trip flares were seen;

Here they come, I choked off a scream.

My machine gun spoke, six letter words of fire.

I saw them fall and lay still on the wire.

A few got through our screen of bullet and shell

Of these, rifle butts and bayonets did repell.

The attacker broker, left as he came;

But he would return to kill, to maim.

At last it was quiet, silence replaced the din.

The men uttered thanks, one sang a hyme.

The chaplain knelt by the dying to pray.

My stomach felt sick, my legs gave away.

My buddies lay dead, bloody on the ground;

I tried to curse, but heard no sound.

In silence I sat trying to express my grief.

At least came tears, only they brought relief.

A few hours later it was light, Christmas Day.

I lowered my head and earnestly did pray:

"God, end this holocaust of death and pain,

and give us peace with honorable gain."

End.