Story Behind The Song

Within a year of returning from Vietnam, I heard from my brother, Jimmy, that a young man who played football at Petal, Mississippi had lost his legs in Vietnam. Back then, in 1973, communications was nothing like it is today, so I didn't know exactly when it ocurred, or what had happened to the young man whom my brother, Jimmy, had coached in high school at Petal. Therefore, with tears in my eyes, I wrote the song about how his wound(s) might have occured while on patrol. Many years later, I learned that he had been shot in the back during his first firefight. The back shot, from a spiderhole hiding Vietnamese soldier, severed the young man's spinal cord, causing him loss use of his legs. I never changed the lyrics because I felt the story portrayed heroic deeds that were unselfishly displayed by many during that war. Eventually, after many years, I provided the young man, Danny Riels, a copy of the poem. Sadly, Danny passed away several years ago. One of the shames of that war was the terrible way troops were treated upon their return from the war zone, and the anemic amount of medical and mental attention provided to them; especially, due to the lies about how Agent Orange could not have harmed so many of the returnees. It is now a well-known fact, but only after many years of fighting the assertion finally brought forth the truth. For more about Danny, copy the following hyperlink, paste it into your browser Address box. http://books.google.com/books?id=U9m_tZNXZRAC&pg=PA110&dq=Danny+Riels+Mississippi&hl=en&sa=X&ei=HlXuTqLuHIyJtwfBtdiwCg&ved=0CDcQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=Danny%20Riels%20Mississippi&f=false

Song Description

Within a year of returning from Vietnam, I heard from my brother, Jimmy, that a young man who played football at Petal, Mississippi had lost his legs in Vietnam. Back then, in 1973, communication capabilities were nothing like today, so I didn't know exactly when it occurred, or what had happened to the young man whom my brother, Jimmy, had coached in high school at Petal. Therefore, with tears in my eyes, I wrote the song about how his wound(s) might have occurred while on patrol. Many years later, I learned that he had been shot in the back during his first firefight in Quang Tri Province, South Vietnam. The back shot, from a spider hole hiding a North Vietnamese or Viet Cong soldier, partially severed the young man's spinal cord which partially paralyzed him. In later years i was told that he lost his left leg but regained use of the right one. I never changed the lyrics because I felt the story portrayed heroic deeds that were unselfishly displayed by many during that war. Eventually, after many years, I provided the young man, Danny Riels, a copy of the poem. Sadly, Danny passed away several years after I gave him the poem. One of the shames of that war was the terrible way troops were treated upon their return from the war zone, and the anemic amount of medical and mental attention provided to them; especially, due to the lies about how Agent Orange could not have harmed so many of the returnees. It is now a well-known fact, but only after many years of fighting the assertion finally brought forth the truth. For more about Danny, copy the following hyperlink, paste it into your browser Address box. http://books.google.com/books?id=U9m_tZNXZRAC&pg=PA110&dq=Danny+Riels+Mississippi&hl=en&sa=X&ei=HlXuTqLuHIyJtwfBtdiwCg&ved=0CDcQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=Danny%20Riels%20Mississippi&f=false

Lyrics

Why?
The whistle blows, the fans all rise
to watch the ball sail through the skies.
But here I sit, no way to stand,
for I lost my legs in a foreign land.

Please help me, Lord, to understand
Why men must fight over any land.
Why men are maimed and children die.
Why young men age and grown men cry?

Not long ago, I was dressed to play,
was a fair ballplayer, so some folks say.
When my country called, I did not hide,
for I had been reared with a hard, fierce pride.

Was a rainy day, we were on patrol,
stumblin' through the fields, unaware of the hole.
When up they rose, and began to fire.
Dropped five good men in that stinkin' mire.

Please help me, Lord, to understand
Why men must fight over any land.
Why men are maimed and children die.
Why young men age and grown men cry?

My Sergeant was hit, was bleedin' bad.
Lyin' in the open, his clothes blood-clad.
Decided to help drag him from an incline.
Made a mistake, tripped an awful mine.

Just want your thanks, no pity want I.
For I like to think I kept the flag up high.
But, next time you see a buddy like me,
tell him thanks, and ease his agony.

Yes, next time you see a buddy like me,
tell him thanks, and ease his agony.

Copyright,1973 Eugene G. Gatwood
Captain, USAF