TWENTY YEARS.  IT'S BEEN TWENTY YEARS TO THE DAY SINCE
WE WERE ON THAT PLANE COMING BACK TO THE WORLD FROM
VIETNAM.  I STILL THINK ABOUT IT.  DAY AND NIGHT I THINK ABOUT IT.
ABOUT JOHNSON AND LOBEL, ABOUT BREW AND TURNER, AND EVEN 
ABOUT THE NEW GUYS AND SARGEANT DONGON.   I STILL CAN'T SLEEP
SOUNDLY AT NIGHT AND WHEN I START TO, I HAVE NIGHTMARES AND 
WAKE UP CRYING .  I HEAR A FIRECRACKER OR A CRASH OF  THUNDER
AND DIVE TO THE GROUND WITH MY HEAD COVERED.

     I STILL CAN REMEMBER THE DAY WE CAME HOME.  ME AND PEWEE.
WE GOT OFF THE PLANE SO HAPPY TO BE IN OUR WORLD AGAIN,  SO HAPPY TO SMELL FRESH AIR, TO SEE  AMERICAN FACES.  WE  STEPPED OFF THE PLANE TO THE GROUND, THERE WERE SO MANY FACES.  SOME SPAT AT US AND CALLED US BABY KILLERS.  OTHERS THREW ROCKS AT US.  BUT SOME, ONLY SOME, CAME UP TO US AND PUT THEIR ARMS AROUND US.  THOSE WERE THE ONES WHO MADE US FEEL O.K. ABOUT GOING TO NAM.  WHO MADE US BELIEVE OUR DECISION WAS THE RIGHT ONE - TO GO TO NAM, TO FIGHT FOR OUR COUNTRY AND OUR FREEDOM.  THEY WERE THE SPECIAL ONES.

     I WENT YESTERDAY TO MY VIETNAM VETERANS GROUP, LIKE I DO EVERY THURSDAY NIGHT.  THE MEN THERE ARE MY FRIENDS, MY BROTHERS.  THEY HELP ME TALK ABOUT JOHNSON AND LOBEL WHO HAVEN'T COME HOME YET, WHO'S NAMES ARE ENGRAVED ON A CRIMSON BAND CALLED A P.O.W. BRACELET.  SOMETIMES I HOPE THEY'RE DEAD AND NOT GOING THROUGH A LIVING HELL.  I FEEL GUILTY ABOUT THIS.  BUT, THEY SAY IT'S NORMAL, "THE EXPERTS".

     ONE OF THESE DAYS I'M GOING TO D.C.  TO SEE THE WALL.  TO SEE MY FRIENDS WHO'S NAMES ARE WRITTEN IN BLACK GRANITE.  THERE I CAN SEE BREW AND TURNER.  THE ONES WHO DIDN'T MAKE IT BACK.  SOMETIMES I WONDER IF THEY'RE BETTER OFF.  THEY'RE NOT  GOING 
THROUGH THE HELL I AM, WITH THE FLASHBACKS AND THE MEMORIES.  THEIR NAMES WILL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN.  THEIR MEMORY WILL LIVE FOREVER.

     SOMETIMES I WONDER ABOUT SAUDI ARABIA ...WILL THERE BE MORE WHO DON'T COME HOME, AND HAVE THEIR OWN P.O.W. BRACELET...WILL THERE BE MORE WHO DON'T MAKE IT BACK AND END UP ON A BLACK WALL...HOW CAN THEY SEND OUR SONS WHEN WE DON'T HAVE OUR BROTHERS BACK...WHY...

                               NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP...   


By :  Sarah Kwiatkowski - 
        Written when the Gulf War was underway
        In tribute to her father - Dennis "Ski" Kwiatkowski