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GENERAL WASHINGTON AT WAR
Once in command, he boxed in the British
At Boston where he captured Dorchester Heights,
Overlooking the Brits at his mercy
As his men took aim with their cannon sites.
The British commander had but one choice,
To sail to New York to renew the fight.
Where the English had much greater forces,
Who soon chased Washington's men in full flight.
They continued on to Pennsylvania
After crossing the Hudson in retreat,
With the British forces in hot pursuit
It looked as though George was doomed to defeat.
When winter seemed to have stopped the fighting
That's when Washington crossed the Delaware.
On that Christmas night he captured Trenton
Where Hessians were surprised and unaware.
He whipped the British at Princeton,
Where in victory his men began to sing.
Washington then wintered at Morristown,
Training his troops for the combat of spring.
Washington fought bravely at Brandywine
And again at a place called Germantown,
But the British were the victorious ones
As the dead of both sides covered the ground.
Americans were blessed early that spring,
When the French entered the war on their side.
Though most suffered frostbite at Valley Forge,
With the help of the French they marched in stride.
The battles raged on, in the North and South
As the King’s soldiers laid waste to the land.
Washington himself was in great despair,
Pleading for aid for his weakened command.
His prayers were answered by 5000 troops,
And a French fleet who took Chesapeake Bay.
They bottled up Cornwallis at Yorktown,
Who surrendered to victory drums at play.
Yorktown was really the end of the war
Though not many quite realized that fact yet.
But the British soon grew tired of the fight
And the terms for its end were signed and set.
Washington yearned to retire at home,
But his country chose him first president.
Cheering crowds waved flags of love and support,
For they believed that "he," by God, was sent.
The leaves of the cottonwoods hung motionless
As outside the walls Santa Anna’s horde closed in.
A small band of Texans watched and waited
Preoccupied by combat and how life would end.
The battle raged from building to building
Till the old mission’s chapel was the last to fall.
Over 180 Texans died fighting to the man
Never to yield, surrender or crawl.
Six weeks later Sam Houston rallied his forces
With “Remember the Alamo” as their battle cry.
Attacking and defeating Santa Anna’s army
To win independence for Texas or die.
The Spanish word for “cottonwood” is “Alamo”
The long time popular name for the mission.
Today the stout-walled old chapel still stands
Preserved as a shrine of sacrifice and tradition.
World War I gave us the fly-boys
Who flew by the seat of their pants.
Many would never return from war
While others survived by chance.
Their planes were mostly canvas and wood
Gasoline, bullets, bombs and poison gas.
Every pilot carried his own pistol
Wearing leathers, scarf and goggles of glass.
Aviators had no Parachutes
To escape their burning plane.
Many were forced to jump to their death
Or self inflect a bullet to the brain.
Blimps where known as battleships of the sky
The roar of their engines gave reason for fear.
They flew so high they were hard to shoot down
Hiding above clouds till their targets drew near.
Tracer bullets for the first time were used
In the guns of airplanes to set blimps a fire.
The skies became man’s highway of death
With duty and honor their driving desire.
How many Fly-boys have we lost since then
Those days of the Great War and more?
Where do we get such brave souls of chance
Who rise from the rest in the battles of war?
UN soldiers fought and were forced to retreat
Behind sandbags protected by barbwire hoops.
Many GI's died as they held off attacks,
By 810,000 Communist troops.
Our guys used phosphorus, flame-throwers and napalm,
For without these weapons they could not survive.
The Communist charges led by buglers,
Till the UN could start it's offensive drive.
On the battlefield of death and misery
Many froze with their hands still stuck to their guns.
While others hobbled with their boots wrapped in rags,
City boys, farmers, students, fathers and sons.
With a million and a half dead or wounded,
Both sides singed a truce before generals involved.
July 27th, 1953,
And though thousands were orphaned, nothing was solved.
WHERE WARS ARE WON OR LOST
Wars are waged by older men
In battle rooms in countries apart.
Who call for greater firepower
And troops for the combat chart.
While out among the shattered flesh
The dreams of all have turned gray.
So young and determined their faces were
Till on the battlefield they lay.
Unable to overcome their pride
The overseers cast their vote.
For this or that or something else
As the thunder of war sounds its note.
Wherever wars are won or lost
The soldiers fall like toys.
Down through history it remains the same
Most who pass are hardly more than boys.
By Conservative Poet
Most Published Poet On The Web
You can hear all of Tom Zart’s 330 poems
of love, war, faith and more 24-7 on web radio at
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