Saturday, June 7, 2014

Remembering D-Day 70 Years Later

   "Nor Shall Your Glory Be Forgot..."  

On the morn of June 6th, the year 1944,
Destination Normandy, D-Day of the war.

The waters were still, the clouds were high,
All was quiet, not a bomber in the sky.
We jumped off our LST into waters knee deep,

Worn out and tired, we had no sleep.
Then all of a sudden, before we knew,

All Hell broke loose with the morning dew.
Shells and bombs all around, the enemy fixed and ready,

All over, men moved forward, a little scared, but steady.
The battle was rugged and one bloody mess,

All the heroes that were made, I know you will never guess!
Some of us were lucky, others were not,

But those who have died will never be forgot.
Everything was quiet now and silently we dug in,

Darkness was upon us, another day will soon begin.
Off into sleep, our minds were miles away,

Thinking of home and what people will say.
We have accomplished our mission, although not yet done,

There's still a long way to go before the war is won.
To all back home doing their share,

Keep up the good work for the boys over here.
A job is a job and it has to be done,

We are doing ours, strikers do none!
We don't ask for much from our folks in the USA,

All our hearts desire is one letter a day.
Back home is different, everything's in fashion,

Over here it's just one thing and that's just K-ration. 
We now you all worry for your kin over here,
So keep buying war bonds, so we'll soon be over there.
"D-Day Normandy"
By Michael DiRienzo, Battery A

Brooklyn, New York

                  War Memorial Cemetery near Normandy, France                       

Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead,
Dear is the blood you gave-
No impious footstep here shall tread
The herbage of your grave.
Nor shall your glory be forgot
While Fame her record keeps,
Or honor points the hallowed spot
Where valor proudly sleeps.
Your marble minstrel's voiceless stone
In deathless song shall tell,
Where many a vanquished year hath flown,
The story how you fell.
Nor wreck nor change, nor winter's blight,
Nor time's remorseless doom,
Can dim one ray of holy light
That glids your glorious tomb.
"The Bivouac of the Dead"
Theodore O'Hara

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