Re: NOT CMT--Mother's Day tribute-Lamar

[Guest guest]

Thanks for sharing! I also enjoyed your very last sentence regarding your

mother, " Even with CMT, she gave me a mother's love. "

----- Original Message -----

From: Lamar son <lls@...>

<cmtilist@...>; < >

Sent: Sunday, May 13, 2001 8:39 PM

Subject: [] NOT CMT--Mother's Day tribute.

> During WWII, there were many battlefield poets. My father was one. Even in

> the midst of battle, paper roses were given to the soldiers to wear on

> Mother's Day. This is the story of one, written nearly 60 years ago, that

> still touches me.

> I WORE THE RED ROSE FOR YOU, MOM

> by:Cpl. Lawrence L. son

>

> ***

>

> In the heart of northeast Africa

> Where the nights are always black

> In a " pup tent " of the American Army

> Dwelled me and my buddy Jack.

>

> We were trying to be good soldiers

> Fighting for " right " -don't you know

> We heard of a Mother's day program

> And we both decided to go.

>

>

>

> The " chapel " was down in the valley

>

> There were mountains on left and right

>

> They pinned on Jack a rose of red

>

> And on my lapel-a white.

>

>

>

> Side by side-we sat in the chapel

> Each thinking of yester-years

> In jack's eyes I could see a twinkle

> In mine I could feel a tear

>

>

>

> After the service was over

> We fought on this foreign sod,

>

> Jack often speaking of his mother

> And oft' saying a prayer to his God.

>

>

>

> That evening when the battle was over

> We counted the lives that were spent

> We returned to our camp in the mountains

> And back to our little " pup tent "

>

> Each footsore-each wounded in battle

> We said our prayers in the night

> Jack asked for my pencil and paper

> And these are the words he did write

>

> 'I wore the red rose for you, Mom

> I wore the red rose for you

> From the chapel into the battle

> I wore the red rose for you. "

>

> At eleven that night taps sounded

> I tucked Jack away in his " bed "

> Next morning so new-when reveille blew

> I found that poor Jack was dead.

>

> At mail next day was a letter

> The edges were trimmed in black

> It was from his sweetheart across the sea

> Who still remembered Jack.

>

> " We've laid your dear old mother

> Deep in a grave so cold

> And she wanted her boy, who was her joy

> To meet her on the streets of gold. "

>

> Now each thought brings that red rose

> That is buried with jack on the hill

> And I forget, because I MUST,

> And not because I will.

>

> Whom we serve in life, we serve

> In that which is to come

> Jack fought a good fight, he died for " right "

> Let God pronounce the doom.

>

> But methinks I can hear Jack saying

> To his mother above the blue

> " I wore the red rose for you, Mom

> I wore the red rose for you. "

>

>

>

> This was a true story and one of the few things about WWII my father ever

> mentioned. His own mother died when he was 15 months old and he never knew

a

> mother. It is now meant to be a sad story, but an expression of a son's

> love. Dad was never able to locate any of Jack's family, or the

sweetheart.

> I do not know where Jack was from, or his last name; but it was likely the

> northeastern US, as many of the group Dad was with in the 21st Aviation

> Engineers were from that area. The poem was picked up by the press and was

> often been reprinted. Perhaps, one day, someone that knew of Jack or was

> from his family will read his last words, a tribute to his mother. I

salute

> all mothers out there. Most of all I want to thank my own, who is no

longer

> here. Even with CMT, she gave me a mother's love.

>

>

>