I sit here, past my prime.
No longer needed, no longer wanted.
I am neglected, and even avoided.
No longer useful.

It wasn't always like that.
Back in 1968 I was young,
I was strong, I moved with grace, and speed.

I was needed, I accomplished many tasks,
I brought young men to battle, I brought wounded to get aid.
I brought the dead from the battle field to begin the long journey home.

Many hated the sight of me coming to carry them into battle,
All looked forward to the sight of me to carry them to the safety of the base camp.

Many times I was loaded with enough armament to defend myself,
Many times I only had a red cross on my nose and side.

You could hear me coming, I had a distinctive sound, if you are a vet, you know the sound.
If you were the enemy, you also knew the sound, and knew what the sound was bringing,
death and destruction. But I also carried the wounded enemy, their blood was as red as anyone’s.

No longer useful, I was used for parts. Slowly my purpose changed. No longer capable of my original mission, I gave my parts so others could continue theirs.
Soon, there will not be much left of me, I will be hauled away, and there will be little left, except memories in many Veterans minds.