Published: June 22, 2010
Op-Ed Contributor
The Coldest Grave
By Chic Hollis
Along a jungle path they crept
In single file with rifles raised.
From agony the wounded wept
Yet even cowards should be praised.
Fierce small arms fire pinned down the file
And mortar shells exploded near
The column as it inched the mile
To check point G with constant fear.
Ahead of each: the coldest grave.
On foreign soil mid stench of war,
Unmourned by those they sought to save
From Marxist rule and commissar.
Somehow those saved forget cold graves
In jungles marked by axe-wrought staves.
Chic Hollis lived on four continents, speaks seven languages and had five children, all of which helped him gain a unique perspective on life.
* The views of Opinion writers do not necessarily reflect the views of NewsBlaze
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