Szittyakürt, 1968 (7. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1968-03-01 / 3. szám
PI6HTEE PAGE 7 TWO OF THE MANY... In the memory of his final jurney by LOUIS F. MOLNÁR American Friends, Flungarian Brothers! We have come to salute, we have come to pay our respect to the honor of a man, whose cross could bear: Born in Europe, fought in Asia, died for Amerika. Steve Sarossy wrote history with his blood. He came from the Hungarian past and stepped into the Amerithat fell out of his hand, and carry it to victory. We pledge to fight till the end against those who keep our nation in slavery, destroy nation after nation under pretenses of liberation. We pledge to spread the truth until the world of lies will collapse. Brothers, Friends do not be afraid! do not despair! Regardless how dark clouds are over the world today, how much sarrow is in our heart, until there are man, soldiers, heroes, martyrs, Steve Sarossy's, the cause of freedom cannot fail. Their spirit will strengthen us in our battles for a final victory. From their sacrifice a free Hungary will be bom. Brother Steve Sarossy, looks back from his final jurney and calls upon us: “Follow me in fight, in sacrifice, in prayer.” Pfc. Stephen Sarossy can future. He was faithfull to his heritage, dedicated to his believes, worthy of his name. He stood up against the storm, when others refuse God, turn against Christ, live by treason just because it benefits them or saves their lives. Steve Sarossy has volunteered to carry the cross. He has given an example to the fearfull, the compromisers and the missled. Steve Sarossy did not live or die in vain. He has showed us that life is worthy only if it serves Nation and Community. He gave his life that a nation might live. Brothers, Friends. — We came to pay respect, but not to forget. His remains may come to final rest, but his spirit will live with us, His dreams will have to be fullfilled. His battle will have to be continued by all of us. We pledge to pick up the flag, WE, THE MARINES by Pfc. ALEXANDER VIGH ‘ ‘ Saddle up ” is the cry That rings through the air. “Some VC were spotted And them we must snare. ’ ’ So we walk down the road, And over the hill. Through our barbed wire And into a vil. We search ah things, High and low, For our job is to force The VC to go. We come through the trees To an open field, And in my mind In prayer I’m kneeled. For this is where The snipers hide, Waiting to give The Marine his death ride. We start across At a brisk pace, Then with incoming fire We are face to face. We hit the deck Cool and calm, And a movement is seen In the distant palm. We fire our weapons, But in vain, For more than likely The sniper’s run again. ☆ ☆ ☆ We rise to our feet, And continue to walk, Wondering how many snipers Also continue to stalk. This is what makes A Marine’s day long. Not knowing who are The Viet Cong That farmer over there That we see, At night, digs up his rifle And becomes VC The patriotic people Must help us now. Our other help comes When our heads we bow. This poem was written by A1 one night on watch after he had been on an all day patrol. He included it in a letter to his Good Friend, Tom Hoeksema, on December 16, 1966, three days prior to his death.
