I Just Can't Put It Down

By Wolf

War and memories of war; both are products of soldiers. The memories I wish to share with you are things that happened to someone at some space in time and impacted on the memories of many. Soldiers memories have always been the remembrance of wars. I think for that reason, soldiers tend to have selective memories. Soldiers also have a tendency that over the years, they lie a lot. Are the lies really lies, or is it the fact that as the years pass, they soften the horrors? Soldiers speak only in bits and pieces. Scraps of reality of things we did so long ago. Memories pasted together with a bond that graciously escapes those fortunate enough to never have been there. Yet those memories return to torment not only us, but also those around us that love us so. I do not wish to defend the innermost corners of my mind or the minds of others. I will only attempt to place the amalgamation of events that lie there into words as they form in my mind. These actions that happened so long ago, still smolders there in all of us. The facts ever so little softened or changed, take the place of reality. The mind selects the parts that seem important and magnifies them. As the grandiose stories begin to take shape, undisturbed sleep slowly returns to those who have learned to live with their lies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496922816

Wolf

MANUEL LEE aka "WOLF" author of Lee's Street Jiu Jitsu Training Techniques Vol.1 is a successful Purple Belt in the art of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu with 10 years of Mixed Martial Arts experience. He is the head Instructor/ Owner of Lee Mixed Martial Arts in which he provides One- on- One private training sessions of Mixed Martial Arts to his clients. He is a 19 year veteran with the Alexandria Sheriff's Office in which he is an Defensive Tactics Instructor, ERT Member for Tactical Emergency Response and Field Trainer. This is the authors first installment of "Lee's Street Jiu Jitsu Training Techniques Vol.1" in which he hopes readers will understand the various fundamentals and dynamics when getting involved in a random street fight and provide them with real life techniques in order to give them the confidence he or she will need to survive in combat or a dangerous attack.

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© 2014 Wolf. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/30/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-2282-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-2281-6 (e)

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Contents

Chapter 1   Air Raid

Chapter 2   The Snake

Chapter 3   Living With The Tigers

Chapter 4   KIM

Chapter 5   The Fork

Chapter 6   Cooking School

Chapter 7   ‘Nam, The First Weeks

Chapter 8   A Place In Time

Chapter 9   Give Me Five

Chapter 10   Kent State, A Quiet Place.

Chapter 11   KSU 4 May

Chapter 12   Grandfather

THINGS A SOLDIER REMEMBERS

Here they come boys, here they come! These simple words don’t seem like much to start a book on memories with, but for some reason, they keep coming back to me every time I sit down to put my thoughts on paper.

The old man was going blind. He sat in the dust of the garden, scooting along on his bottom, feeling for weeds growing around the tomato plants we were nursing along through a dry spell. We spoke of war and many things. Sex, religion, or politics rarely entered our discussions. War was our common bond.

His war, fought so many years ago across a country that he had scarcely even heard of. He was a farm boy, more at home saving the soil or tilling tobacco. He knew where to build ponds. If the field wanted to wash away with the rain, he knew how to leave a grassy strip to hold it there. He volunteered to go to France and fight the Huns. His war was the war to end all wars.

My war, fought in the jungles of a little nation called Vietnam. A war fought at a different time, for a different concept. My war was never even declared a war. Oh, we did speak of other things.

One day he said to me, I’ll bet that I could still drive a car if I could get it out on the road. I can still see pretty good right out in front of me. Time was quietly closing a door on him through which he could never return. I decided to check him out. Why not see if he really could drive? Hell, why not? Chances were good that we wouldn’t kill anyone except maybe ourselves. We tried it that day. He really couldn’t see good enough to drive. What the hell, he pulled up a lot of tomatoes too. We tried.

FOREWORD

War and memories; both are products of soldiers. The memories I wish to share with you are things that happened to someone at some space in time and impacted on the lives of many. Soldier’s memories have always been the remembrance of wars. I think for that reason, soldiers tend to have selective memories. Soldiers also have a tendency that over the years, they lie a lot. Are the lies really intentional, or is it the fact that as the years pass, they soften the horrors. The mind takes the parts that seem important and magnifies them. The grandiose stories begin to take shape. The memories, ever so little softened or changed, take the place of reality. Then sleep, undisturbed sleep, slowly returns to those who have learned to live with their lies.

Soldiers speak only in bits and pieces. Scraps of reality of things we did so long ago. Memories pasted together with a bond that graciously escapes those fortunate enough to never have been there. Yet those memories return to torment not only us, but also those around us that love us so. I do not wish to defend the innermost corners of my mind or the minds of others. I will only attempt to place the moulage of events that lie there in my mind into words as they form in my memories. These events that happened so long ago, still smolders there inside my head.

THANKS

I want to thank all the persons that I’ve known over the years who have made my life what it is. Each of you has indelibly marked your place in my mind. I still hear your voices in the blowing wind. To those of you that are no longer with us in body, rest in the assurance that you have not been forgotten. I see you in the corners of my life. You walk just ahead of me in the dark. You are in the bottom of my glass of Bourbon. You are part of me. There are people that say I see things that others do not see. I guess this is true.

I especially want to thank my wife for being all that she is. She doesn’t always understand me, but she always accepts me. I love her and she loves me.

TOUR OF DUTY

Hell, you just can’t put it down.

Man, you just can’t put it down.

You walked the Bush.

You wore the rain.

You smoked a Gook.

It fried your brain.

We always kept them faceless.

We didn’t give them names.

We only called them Chuck or Slope

And played those silly games.

And you just can’t put it down man.

You just can’t put it down.

You never let your mind know why

You snuffed that Cong today.

Hell, that way it didn’t hurt so much

When you blew his shit away.

And he didn’t bleed, he didn’t cry.

I’m not too sure he’d even die.

But he came, and came, and came again.

Each time he looked the same to you and I.

He gave to us his very best,

And we left him in the swamp to rest.

His son still thinks of him today,

And wonders why he went away.

Yet we never gave them names at all.

Still they died. They gave their all.

And you just can’t put it down man.

You just can’t put it down.

His head exploded in my face.

His body’s gone without a trace.

His hands were the only thing we found.

His blood was soaking in the ground.

His dying words I heard him say,

Tell Mom I love her.

Please help me.

Pray.

And you just can’t put it down man.

You just can’t put it down

How long’s it been?

Forty? More?

So many years since I went to war.

And still the smell of cooking ham

Means things to me I cannot say.

And when the rain comes down in the quiet night,

Sometimes I wake, bones cold with fright.

It smells of death, there is no moon,

But your sure he’s coming, he’s coming, soon.

And again, you’ll blow his shit away,

And you’ll live to fear another day.

And hell, you just can’t put it down.

Man, I just can’t put it down.

WHERE DOES IT GO?

Do you always wonder where it went?

The time that you so easily spent.

Chasing things that didn’t matter.

Always running pitter patter.

Do you sometimes feel your days go by

so fast that months just seem to fly?

To do some good would seem to be

the thing you’d want for me to see.

So use your life and all you’ve done

as things to pass to daughter and son.

Just let them know that you are there

in times that are both foul and fair.

Then even though the things you do

may not seem so great to you,

the moments that to them you give

will forever in their memories live.

A BIG BLACK DOG

I never knew a dog could love you,

especially a big black dog.

Of course, this dog is not an ordinary dog.

He is big and black.

His mother isn’t big or black.

His mother is little and blond.

His mother is a good dog.

His father was big and black.

He sure could jump fences.

We adopted her from the dog pound.

She loves us.

He came from somewhere down the street.

We will never see him again.

That big black dog was her first born.

First in a litter of nine.

They were all big black dogs.

Twinkle Toes, Bubba, Precious,

we named them all.

Blaze, we kept.

I’m glad we did.

He is a big black dog.

He loves us.

WHERE I’LL BE

I know where there’s a hilltop

that means a lot to me.

It’s really nothing special.

It’s just that there, I’m free.

We’ve spent a lot of fun filled hours

together on that hill.

I’ve always kinda’ loved the place

and probably always will.

The flyin’ kites

and star filled nights

we shared with one another,

have all been special in my world.

For me, there is no other.

It’s at this place I want to be.

I’ll watch the sun eternally.

I’ll see the golds of night,

the reds of dawn,

and watch the soaring of the swan.

I promise that I’ll count the deer

that feed on grasses growing here.

I’ll watch for eagles

and with them soar.

I’ll speak with you forevermore.

My soul will always be as free

as the birds that fly o’r you and me.

So when from this world I am departed,

don’t feel too bad for me.

Just see that I am scattered there

and know with God I’ll be.

Chapter One

AIR RAID

My Father missed his war. I know that he was deeply disappointed that he did. Dad would relive other’s adventures, savoring each detail that he was told. It was as though he could really share