My brother is 9 years older than I am. He is retired and writes poems. He sends them out by email every Sunday morning but today he sent the below, it speaks for itself about my father who was in both the First and Second World War. Sgt. Krulewitch was in a trench in France on his 23rd birthday November 11 , 1918.


November 11-18, 2018

A Century’s Wars


I’m not good at birthdates

but have always remembered my stepfather’s,

for his was the day

the Great War ended.

We have a photo of him in France,

on a hill overlooking the Rhine,

a tall, clean-shaven, young marine

in breeches, boots and campaign hat

hands on hips, legs spread,

seeming to tower like a monument

over the river’s far bank.


There’s another photo of him,

on Saipan,

carbine in hand,

soiled battle fatigues,

helmet with chin strap hanging open,

looking smaller than I’d ever seen him look.

That was the day his friend’s son died there,

a friend he’d carried from a battlefield in France.


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