Good morning, echoes through the dawn's first light,
A tale of valor, sorrow, and might.
In nineteen-oh-seven, a boy was born,
To a widow whose heart was torn.

His father, taken by a brother’s hand,
Left a young widow in a desolate land.
He grew up fast, a child no more,
Dropped out in fifth grade to work, to toil, and bore.

Four brothers looked up to his guiding hand,
In the logging woods, he made his stand.
Married young, and children came,
Seven in total, three angels to name.

In forty-four, when the world was ablaze,
A month-old baby, he’d have to leave in a haze.
From Harlan County to Normandy’s shore,
This Kentucky boy faced the horrors of war.

Men fell like rain on that blood-soaked beach,
One young soldier’s sanity just out of reach.
“No need for a gun,” he cried out loud,
As chaos raged and death's shadow shrouded.

Liberation brought tears to his weary eyes,
Death camps unveiled humanity’s demise.
In a foxhole, with a testament lost,
He crawled through the night, in the cold and frost.

Hands bleeding, searching for hope,
Found a Bible, bloodied, a way to cope.
Twice wounded, he persevered,
Shook Patton’s hand, a memory revered.

Post-war missions with Lt. Schaefer’s call,
Hunting war criminals, he gave his all.
Came home broken, inside and out,
Shell shock, treatments, a mind full of doubt.

Twenty-five years, he battled unseen foes,
A hero in shadows, the pain only grows.
No bridges or highways bear his name,
But his sacrifice remains, forever aflame.

A military family, devoted and true,
To God and country, their hearts they imbue.
When flags are trampled, in anger and pain,
Remembering the fallen, tears fall like rain.

As taps play softly, a tribute to the brave,
For your dad, your husband, the memories you save.
In their honor, with pride, you stand tall,
Heroes remembered, one and all.

Created by
MarkWaldrop

Taken from a story on Facebook “Journey of a Mountain Woman”