Freddy Wilson... A Soldier's Poem
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Tom Ballard Photography
| A window in Tom's universe. This is more than a website of photos, it is a place to share photos, adventures, stories, opinions, and information. I hope you enjoy the time you spend here. |
Who knows what this website will turn out to be someday. It started as an easy way for me to share my travel photos with
family and friends. It expanded into short stories, opinions, some health information, and the sharing of other information of
interest to me and hopefully, some others. It may be about to take another turn. In my travels I have had the wonderful
experience to meet some outstanding people. Many times they and their story produce more great memories than the path
I traveled. And, if that is not enough, I also hear of other people who have great stories or material of some type to share.
With that thought in mind, I am going to experiment a little on this page by sharing a poem, written by someone I have
known for most of my life, but did not know until last fall that he had been in the Army during the Vietnam War, and while
stationed at Ft. Riley, Kansas he wrote a poem one night, on a couple of table napkins. Later he transferred the words to
normal copy paper.
For those that know me, they will know that I grew up in Oklahoma. I was born in Oregon, raised in Oklahoma, educated in
Oklahoma, but worked my professional career years in Missouri. With family and friends still in Oklahoma, I still go there
regularly. In November of 2010, while back in Oklahoma on one of my trips, I went to the local Community Center for lunch,
which I do most of the time when I am back that way. One day, while waiting for lunch to be ready, I found myself in a
conversation with one of the men that I had grown up with. He had retired several years ago, and moved back to the old
home area. A few years ago, he found himself helping out at the Community Center, which lead to him becoming one of
the main people on the staff. I think he is always there. He is always there when I arrive and he is always there when I
leave. I am left to think he lives there, but since he has a nice home and a really neat wife to watch the clock for him, I am
sure he does go home sometime.
I tell you the Community Center connection because it was at the Center, that I became involved in a conversation with
Freddy about something, which lead to things people write, etc.. He asked if I had ever read the poem he had written
during his days in service, while the Vietnam War was going on.. I told him I had not seen the poem. He headed off to the
office he has at the Center, and returned with two pages of paper, which contained the words to the peom he was
referring earlier. I read it. For some strange reason, it really caught my attention. I am not sure if it was the way it was
written, or what it said, but it got my attention and my emotions. After a few moments to think about it, I asked Freddy if I
could publish his poem for others to read, he said, "go for it". So, here I am to do just that. I will tell you that Freddy and I
talked for a length of time about his time in service and some of the heart breaking things that happened and how soldiers
reacted. During this conversation, he shared several stories with me, and amazing enough, a couple of small clipping from
newpapers, that he had carried for years. Makes you stop and wonder, how many young men, and women, have stories
like this to tell, and in their wallet or purse is something they have carried for years that means so much to them. Some of
these items bring back memories, other items promote hope, and encourage people to move forward with their life each
day, years after the process started. You really have to wonder what is deep in these peoples mind that causes them to
carry a small piece of paper for 30-40-50 years!!!!!! This is not the first time I have been stopped in my tracks by what
people have shown me. The items by themselves are generally small and generally of no money value, but brings big
emotions to the people who carry them.
When Freddy gave me permission to publish his poem, I asked if he would write a story for me, one that would tell the
story behind the poem. He said he would. I was going to wait until I had that story, and publish the story and the poem at
the same time, but changed my mind. I wanted to get the peom out there. The story behind it will have to come later. While
I was talking to Freddy about the peom, and the small clips of paper memories that he carries, I asked if I could take a few
photos. He agreed without hesitation. So, along with the poem, I am going to share with you a few photos taken during our
meeting(s). I hope you will enjoy the poem and take the photos as a mental reference.
As I was saying at the beginning of all this, I am considering adding other peoples stories, especially soldier, military, war,
and other service related stories. But, I will be interested in all stories that show struggles in life and the effects it has had.
There has to be something to learn from these personal stories. Education is a good thing for sure, when it comes to
getting through life, but there is an inner strength in people that just cannot be measured, at least not yet, I don't think.. Not
all stories are bad. In my travels, I have met some wonderful people who have had some of the most unbelieveable good
luck in life. Their stories are also of great interest to me. To those who read this, and have comments, I would love to hear
from you. I have a contact page. And to people who have a story to share here, I would like to consider it.. Maybe the
stories will become the site and the photography will become secondary..
family and friends. It expanded into short stories, opinions, some health information, and the sharing of other information of
interest to me and hopefully, some others. It may be about to take another turn. In my travels I have had the wonderful
experience to meet some outstanding people. Many times they and their story produce more great memories than the path
I traveled. And, if that is not enough, I also hear of other people who have great stories or material of some type to share.
With that thought in mind, I am going to experiment a little on this page by sharing a poem, written by someone I have
known for most of my life, but did not know until last fall that he had been in the Army during the Vietnam War, and while
stationed at Ft. Riley, Kansas he wrote a poem one night, on a couple of table napkins. Later he transferred the words to
normal copy paper.
For those that know me, they will know that I grew up in Oklahoma. I was born in Oregon, raised in Oklahoma, educated in
Oklahoma, but worked my professional career years in Missouri. With family and friends still in Oklahoma, I still go there
regularly. In November of 2010, while back in Oklahoma on one of my trips, I went to the local Community Center for lunch,
which I do most of the time when I am back that way. One day, while waiting for lunch to be ready, I found myself in a
conversation with one of the men that I had grown up with. He had retired several years ago, and moved back to the old
home area. A few years ago, he found himself helping out at the Community Center, which lead to him becoming one of
the main people on the staff. I think he is always there. He is always there when I arrive and he is always there when I
leave. I am left to think he lives there, but since he has a nice home and a really neat wife to watch the clock for him, I am
sure he does go home sometime.
I tell you the Community Center connection because it was at the Center, that I became involved in a conversation with
Freddy about something, which lead to things people write, etc.. He asked if I had ever read the poem he had written
during his days in service, while the Vietnam War was going on.. I told him I had not seen the poem. He headed off to the
office he has at the Center, and returned with two pages of paper, which contained the words to the peom he was
referring earlier. I read it. For some strange reason, it really caught my attention. I am not sure if it was the way it was
written, or what it said, but it got my attention and my emotions. After a few moments to think about it, I asked Freddy if I
could publish his poem for others to read, he said, "go for it". So, here I am to do just that. I will tell you that Freddy and I
talked for a length of time about his time in service and some of the heart breaking things that happened and how soldiers
reacted. During this conversation, he shared several stories with me, and amazing enough, a couple of small clipping from
newpapers, that he had carried for years. Makes you stop and wonder, how many young men, and women, have stories
like this to tell, and in their wallet or purse is something they have carried for years that means so much to them. Some of
these items bring back memories, other items promote hope, and encourage people to move forward with their life each
day, years after the process started. You really have to wonder what is deep in these peoples mind that causes them to
carry a small piece of paper for 30-40-50 years!!!!!! This is not the first time I have been stopped in my tracks by what
people have shown me. The items by themselves are generally small and generally of no money value, but brings big
emotions to the people who carry them.
When Freddy gave me permission to publish his poem, I asked if he would write a story for me, one that would tell the
story behind the poem. He said he would. I was going to wait until I had that story, and publish the story and the poem at
the same time, but changed my mind. I wanted to get the peom out there. The story behind it will have to come later. While
I was talking to Freddy about the peom, and the small clips of paper memories that he carries, I asked if I could take a few
photos. He agreed without hesitation. So, along with the poem, I am going to share with you a few photos taken during our
meeting(s). I hope you will enjoy the poem and take the photos as a mental reference.
As I was saying at the beginning of all this, I am considering adding other peoples stories, especially soldier, military, war,
and other service related stories. But, I will be interested in all stories that show struggles in life and the effects it has had.
There has to be something to learn from these personal stories. Education is a good thing for sure, when it comes to
getting through life, but there is an inner strength in people that just cannot be measured, at least not yet, I don't think.. Not
all stories are bad. In my travels, I have met some wonderful people who have had some of the most unbelieveable good
luck in life. Their stories are also of great interest to me. To those who read this, and have comments, I would love to hear
from you. I have a contact page. And to people who have a story to share here, I would like to consider it.. Maybe the
stories will become the site and the photography will become secondary..
Hungry, though he may be
Three meals a day, free
He spends his night, suffers the hot
Bless by the Army, with a discarded cot
He asks the Lord, for the new month to be nigh
Realizing once more, he might become high
He is forced to drink, to suffer the pain
Take public scorn, sleep in the rain
He blesses his parents, with great pity
As he asks our Lord, for a place in the great city
A home on high, the top of his wishes
Death! To help escape, verbal swishes
He salutes the officer, with his best in style
Twisting his face, forcing a smile
He stiffens his back, to portray great pride
Hoping to shadow, the agony inside
He fights for perfection, each and every morn
Only to stand inspection, with scorn
He walks through the street, gives way to a dog
Upon its harness, a general star, shines in the fog
He marches to battle, as if in pride
Watches another buddy, fall to the side
He forces a grin, all covered with grime
Watches another buddy, fall dead in the slime
He sings America, with all his might
Realizing his last, may be tonight
He feels his blood, forced to his head
Yes, another buddy is dead
He prays, as he beds upon the ground
Lord, bless those, who have fallen down
Give them a place, in your home on high
For the wicked and evil, has bade them to die
Some were smart Lord, with lots of brain
Treated like pigs, sleeping in the rain
Lord, I wouldn't bring them back by choice
For deep inside, I hear their dying voice
Asking the Power Wigs, please increase the talk
Bring peace on earth, never terry nor balk
He returns home, aboard a huge plane
Sheltered? Yes sheltered, from the wind and rain
He looks for his legs, unable to sit
Sees only a sheet, of cotton knit
He is awaken with fright, as he sees no knees
Yes! He joined the ranks, of the war amputees
He is at last free, three years have gone
He rolls his chair, forcefully home
He meets his girl, blocking the door
Round as a barrel, his no more
He looks to his brethren, in search for support
His hopes drain slowly, as sorghum from a retort
He tells his family, goodbye, one and all
No job can he do, whether large or small
To his family a burden, from lack of his limb
With the will of a soldier, he relieves them
As the flowers, upon his grave, do unfold in the morn
They file by, only to laugh, curse and scorn
Yes! A private's life, given in vain
Yet we permit them to do it, again and again
Slick Sleeve
Freddy E. Wilson
U.S. 54 668 881
7th Chemical Co,
Ft. Riley, Kansas 66442
