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I Saw Chesty at the Mall
By Dave Beakey
December 9, 2006
2nd Bn 1st Marines
Echo Company 1968 - 1969
(This poem is dedicated to all of our Marine Corps brothers who served during the Korean War)
"He, who would pass his declining years with honor and comfort, should, when young, consider that he may one day become old, and remember when he is old, that he has once been young." Joseph Addison
Yea, I walk through the valley of the mall with an uneasy step.
So many sounds, so many flashes.
The toy stores are like ammo dumps, the T shirts are brown or green; familiar colors.
The pants have many pockets, perhaps to hide pistolas, maybe to conceal C 4 fuses.
Doc Marten boots clomp on the hard, shiny tiles. The army of the young marches on.
I hear that old helicopter noise, look around and see only the shiny faces of cell phone people.
Then, I see an older man, he of the Frozen Chosen, sitting on an uncomfortable bench,
Near two vixens with visible thongs. They ignore him.
He sips a black coffee and looks on, with that old thousand-yard stare.
He’s remembering a time when heaven was warm and safe; hell was upon him.
His wife’s pocketbook sits between his legs. He guards it, much as he guarded his ammo,
Back in the days when Truman strolled through the streets of America.
His jacket caresses his large, but frail body.
Inside his pocket are two blurry pictures of a boy who was told to “fix bayonets” one day,
On a hill nobody remembers.
He’s grateful to be alive. He lives for the days when his granddaughter climbs onto his sore knees.
Today at the mall, he smiles as the children race past him, on winged sneakers.
I continue my march. Eventually, I tire. I sit and think of elephant grass waving in the sun.
The children rush by me, smiling, talking, not seeing me.
My cap and my jacket they comfort me.
“All right, they’re on our left, they’re on our right, they’re in front of us, they’re behind us…they can’t get away this time.” Chesty Puller
