As we continue remembering the events at Khe Sanh 50 years ago, we are honored to share a recent poem by Lt. Col. Ken Pipes, USMC Retired, the beloved Skipper of Bravo Company, 1/26.
Tear in the Fabric
Shadows flicker, fire reflecting off the pines at the midnight hour— another time—or place—or both— another brief shadow— just at the corner of the eye— thinking—seen—imagined— 50 years is a long half-century away/ago—then just perhaps a brief shadow— that draws the string to a tight close at the top of the bag that holds all the secrets in a holder that holds it all: the secrets—memories— most good, some not so good? Names, pictures, times, dates— a minor tear in the fabric and the past— even the future—could be revealed. And the time—time moves with a speed all its own— the tune sometimes out of synch— then the beat settles in and the march begins again— sometimes at the slow— but increased step of the Kepi Blanc of the Legion Estrangier moving out the gates of Forts on the edge of some far flung and isolate outpost— with flickering fire shadows and movement out of the corner of the eye— looked briefly like Don, Hank, Ken—Mac— no— it is but the tricks of the midnight hour or the light fading from the glow that was once yesterday.
Ken Pipes, on the right, signing posters for screenings of BRAVO! in Fresno-Clovis, CA in 2013. Photo courtesy of Betty Rodgers
One of the most pleasing things to come to light on my journey with post-combat Khe Sanh Veterans—and veterans of war in general—has been the discovery, by both them and me, of art as a way to process and understand the horrors or war.
Some of us have written books, some of us have created sculpture, some of us have created paintings, drawings and music. In my case, my wife Betty and I created a film. And a lot of these men, these tough and battered warriors, have created poetry.
In today’s blog, I share a poem written by Bravo Skipper Ken Pipes as a eulogy, a requiem, in honor of Marine Lieutenant Colonel James Wilkinson who commanded the 1st Battalion, 26th Marine Regiment through much of the Siege of Khe Sanh.
Lt. Colonel James Wilkinson.
Lt. Colonel Wilkinson passed away on December 1, 2017. You can read his obituary here.
And below, please find Ken Pipes’ poem honoring James Wilkinson as well as other Marines and Corpsmen who fought at Khe Sanh. _____
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Gentleman Jim, Our Eagle
An Eagle fell from the sky today and the sun stood still. The shrill wind howled in the clear blue sky, as heavy mist fogged the eye. Some wondered why ‘til the message arrived, then many silently cried. The wires rang with sadness and sorrow as the much feared word went forth, “Gentleman Jim,” our Eagle, was now outward bound from this earth.
We who spent our life there 50 year ago or more, stood rock steady as we started to recall. Quigley’s voice resoundingly strong while he and Doc C locked an eye. Mac sounded off with a message so loud that it cleared to the azure sky— “Black Bud 6 sends his respects, Sir, and requests your presence soonest; don’t bother bringing your gear.”
On the eve of our Commander’s passing, just a few short days ago in the stillness of the mid-watch, where some Marines are want go! ‘Twas then our Eagle went swooping down as the word went quickly about, “The Eagle was out!” where nothing escaped his sharp glances or sharper eye. Neither did deserving Marines escape a heartfelt thanks as he moved on down the line.
In the later years when asked by those not privileged to be there— “What did you learn from your Commander, Lad, that was held so close and dear?” The answer to that one was easy, “That when in the company of your Marines and killing times are near, nothing is more important than not outwardly showing fear!“
And so, what we all learned from this impressive man, was to righteously understand, that the fortunes of war may wobble a bit, but to Marines, the mission is first and if you fall while in the attack you will not be left behind. Your mates will have your back. Care deeply for your Marines, remembering if you do, they will fix bayonets, sling their packs and follow you. How well I remember, as I was dismissed— thinking, I have just been shown the way. Things might be looking up for our blessed Nation and her Warriors on this day.
Gentleman Jim’s Marine heritage was born and bred deep in the South. His nickname “Gentleman Jim” deceived, ’cause like the Eagle, he moved swiftly about, going forward of the battle line when the guns were swung around. Thus, his Eagle eyes and attitude kept many of us alive.
So, as he now speeds outbound to assume his last command, where he will link up with David, that Lion of a Man, there they will each hold ‘til our last wave touches down. So hold tight Colonels Dave and Jim; for Charlie and the Gunny are moving fast to meet you and they are almost there. Bravo and the Captain, with the squads of Jake, Mike and Wiese. The Doc, Britt, and Rash, with the rest following in trace.
On the high ground our flag will be planted as we rest at Fiddlers Green where we will be awaiting the landing of the next wave of battle scarred Marines.
Ken Pipes
It is time to shut this down, now. It all seems like an endless dream. As we scan the ranks and read the Clay— it becomes patently clear this day it won’t be long until we will have more men there than we have here! We miss each of our brothers, but know it won’t be long— ‘til we muster to share a few rounds of beer with “Gentleman Jim” our Eagle!
Ken Pipes, Assisted/Advised by:
Major Larry Luther (881), Sergeant Major Morris (USMC), Sergeant Mike O’Hara (Bravo), Corporal Ken Rodgers (Bravo), and Lieutenant Derek Clark, San Diego Sheriff’s Department (Ret)
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If you or your organization would like to host a screening of BRAVO! in your town, please contact us immediately.
DVDs of BRAVO! are available. Please consider gifting copies to a veteran, a teacher, a history buff, a library, a friend or family member. For more information, go to https://bravotheproject.com/store/.
In 1968, on today’s date, January 27, the Marines in the trenches at Khe Sanh were beginning to realize that what began on January 20-21, 1968, would turn into a period of horror and death and destruction which would become seared into the memories and psyches of all those who survived.
The 19th Century German philosopher and poet, Friedrich Nietzsche said: We have art in order not to die of the truth.
The truth of what happened at Khe Sanh often seems like a dose of reality so heinous that it is hard to swallow. We want to reject it as fantasy, as false memory, as fiction. But what happened there is truth with a bitter bouquet.
Down inside our minds, we try to figure a way to deal with that nasty truth and so, as Nietzsche probably would suggest, we often turn the truth into art. Over the last 2700 years and more, warriors have been memorializing their war experiences with poetry, which is certainly art.
Somewhere around the Eighth Century, BC, the Greek warrior poet, Archilochus wrote: “I long for a fight with you, just as a thirsty man longs for drink.”*
And in the intervening centuries, warriors have tried to reduce to poetry the profound impacts of combat through imagery be it sight, sound, smell, or the way the mist of a morning before battle gathers on the skin.
In the last one hundred years or so, war poets have been strong voices in articulating what they have witnessed as man has attacked and massacred his fellow man. A list of 20th and 21st Century war poets might include Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen from World War I, János Pilinszky and Randall Jarrell from World War II, Rolando Hinojosa and William Childress from the Korean War, Yusef Komunyakaa and Bruce Weigl from Vietnam, and Brian Turner and Jason Shelton from the wars in the middle east.
Although these poets have gained some fame, the efforts of trying to convert our wartime experiences into something we can look at on a page is a pretty common phenomena.
Skipper and poet, Ken Pipes, at Khe Sanh
Fear, horror and pain; what we’ve witnessed and endured in war sometimes acts as a muse and invites us, the warriors, to create, even those of us who aren’t professional poets.
In today’s rendition of the blog, we turn to one of our own, Lieutenant Colonel Ken Pipes, USMC Retired, who served as the company commander of Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, 26th Marines during the siege. Skipper Pipes is also featured in the documentary, BRAVO! COMMON MEN, UNCOMMON VALOR.
Skipper Pipes’ poem is written in classic form, rhyme and meter, and is published here with his permission. Please respect his copyright.
Tribute and Tribulation Khe Sanh Remembered
To the men who scaled their mountains and Seized that far flung plateau, To the men who held the arena Against the best the enemy could throw.
Who walked the jungle covered valleys And waded the leach laden streams; Who moved through the green shrouded alleys, Till their muscles cramped and screamed.
To those who fell wounded and bleeding, Yet arose to fight on ’til the end. To those who fell wounded and bleeding, Never to rise up again.
To our comrades who carried the rifle; Who fired both cannon and gun. To those who supplied and fought with us We knew that they’d never run.
To the pilots who flew the fast movers, And herded choppers all over the sky. Who calmly watched the green tracers As they went arching and howling by.
To Gentleman Jim, our commander, And Jaques, Claire, Morris and Chief. To Snake, Mike, Korkow and Rash, And other heroes we respect and keep.
To Stubbe, our brave navy chaplain, Who interceded for us as our link. And to DeMaggd, our battalion surgeon, Whose skilled hand drew us back from the brink.
To Blanchfield, and our navy corpsmen, The finest and most courageous of all; Who daily and nightly fought to reach us, Refusing to succumb to the law.
So now as we move far from the valley, And the years march away to the fore, We and our families remember, All those who made it happen; and more.
Oorah for the Skipper! Ooorah! for poetry. Ooorah! for art.
If you have further interest in war poetry, you can find examples here from those mentioned earlier: Siegfried Sassoon contemplates a letter home to a mother here: Wilfred Owen muses on a gas attack here: ; János Pilinszky ponders prisoners of war here: Randall Jarrell writes about the men who crew bombers here: Rolando Hinojosa contemplates friendly fire here: William Childress remembers the Korean War here: Yusef Komunyakaa at The Wall here: Bruce Weigl muses about the world between war and home here: Brian Turner on the bullet here: and Jason Shelton on Iraq here.
*From William Harris, Prof. Emeritus Classics, Middlebury College. (http://community.middlebury.edu/~harris/Archilochus.pdf).
Ken Pipes, The Skipper and poet
If you or your organization would like to host a screening of BRAVO! in your town this coming spring, summer, fall or next winter please contact us immediately.
DVDs of BRAVO! are available. Please consider gifting copies to a veteran, a history buff, a library, a friend or family member. For more information, go to https://bravotheproject.com/buy-the-dvd/.
Guest blogger Betty Plevney, Bravo! friend and supporter extraordinaire, muses on her memories of childhood and the Siege of Khe Sanh. Betty says that every time she tried to write this piece it wanted to come out as a poem.
Circle the Date
Red-eyed, bone tired jarheads tremble as they sit in an outpost surrounded by towering ridges deep in the boonies. They do not want to die. Not on this plateau, Khe Sanh. Not in this country, Viet Nam.
I sit in the row next to the door, legs swinging below my desk. Eraser dust sifts across my fifth grade assessment test. I do not want to fail. Choosing answers with care. Choosing circles to ensnare.
I look up and catch my brother’s eye across the room. He scrambles across a bomb-pitted field.
My brother smiles, eyebrows wiggling above thick dark glasses. He wiggles down behind sandbags, incoming pelting the ground.
Behind him, I see snowflakes falling in thick white clouds, pelting the windows. He stares up at the clouds listening to his breath in that one moment when the chattering of explosions stops.
I turn my head, take a breath, and find the answer to each question is complete. My hand moves to circle the date.
His hand moves to find his legs, his chest, his hip are no longer complete.
Circle the date. Sixty-six men with Bravo Company did in early 1968.
Betty Plevney is a writer, mixed-media artist and graphic facilitator living in Richmond, Virginia. She explores the layering and juxtaposition of words, ideas and feelings in her writing, searching for the deeper meaning and textures hidden within the layers of life. She graduated from the University of San Francisco with a Masters in Writing. You can follow her musings on Twitter @BettyPlevney.
