If freedom needs reminding of honour bright
and memories dim with life's fast pace,
remember the young marines
on the hell of Khe Sanh's face.

Of tanks white hot and holed right through
and napalm's glow and medics sprawled
across the bodies of their friends
and going to the wounded call.

Of steep air-strikes and. flare-lit nights
twelve yards forward and ten years back,
and fighting hard with bayonet's grace
as men in black attack, attack.

And gallant youth in hell's own glades
cutting, thrusting on the hills,
remember those boys and Khe Sanh's sighs
where the echoes of courage are calling still

And as you march down Arlington's streets
past ashen widows and winding-sheets,
and hear the sombre bugles shrill
pray for the lost on Khe Sanh's hills.

© John A. Moller
Whiskey Two Company RNZIR