Gerry

By David Beakey

We met over there, in a land 10,000 miles from Braintree.

We were young warriors, Marines with clear eyes and brave hearts.

You, broad shouldered from lifting weights and playing hockey.

Me, rail thin and still boyishly awkward.

Together, we fought terrifying battles.

In the mountains, from foxholes quickly dug, while the rounds descended upon us.

In rivers and in mud, chest high.

In rice paddies, as the rain pounded as hard as our hearts.

We never ran away from our fear, much as many of us wished we could.

You were different though.

Didn’t you dread the withering fire?

Were you born brave?

Your leadership and crisp orders gave us hope and guidance.

We thought you were invincible.

Then, one day, in that terrible area we called “The Riviera”, you fell.

It happened as you were leading your men, as usual;

Standing, firing, while some hugged the ground with sweat-drenched bodies.

Our noble enemy always targeted the leaders, the bravest fighters.

For your bravery, your country bestowed the Silver Star upon you.

But this monument stands as a symbol of our respect.

You are a true hero, Gerry.

You will never be forgotten.

And we know that you don’t sleep here;

But instead continue to stand watch, so that we may rest, safe and secure.

Semper Fidelis!