Dan Pocius

USMC

The SafeHaven Viet Nam Veterans Discussion Group

Page best viewed at 1024 x 768

In Memoriam

Dan Pocius

USMC

USMC Photo

Young Warrior

Yearn for peace in your heart, 
Only a few brave souls take part. 
Understand our cries of woe, 
Now go with you to meet your foe. 
Gone now to a warriors land,

Welcomed in a style so grand. 
A brave warrior kneels at your feet,   
Ringing your entry to the black fleet. 
Rise to the heavens on wings of gold, 
Into battle with warriors brave and bold. 
Out beyond the bounds of time and space, 
Remember soon we shall join you in that place.

© 2001 Dan Pocius USMC 64-68

 **JuB-NaD'ChoH

Dan's Story

    The best place to start is the beginning. Bernie and I went to
school K thru 12. I was a smart ass and dropped out in my junior year. Later
I got my GED but it still is not the same. We were both the products of
Catholic grammar school. We met Keith in 1st year high school. The three of
us were holy terrors, and inseparable. If one got in trouble you were sure the
other two were involved. The only difference was while Keith and me always
looked like the real bad guys Bernie would always come up smelling like a
rose. We even gave him the nickname Rosebud. We were about 16 (young and
stupid) copped a gallon of port wine from my house, and went down the streets
drinking it. It was Christmas break so it was cold and dark. It was
the early 60's and quiet. We also got someone to get us a pint of
scotch. By the time we finished the wine we were getting a little hungry, but we
did not feel drunk. So we decided to get something to eat. We walked into a
bakery shop and the world did major turns. All of sudden we weren't hungry
any more. We just wanted to go home. We paid the price of stupidity for
the next couple of days, and to this day I still can't drink red wine.
After we recovered we still had the bottle of scotch, but we were not in a
drinking mood. So we put it away until a future date. When I joined the
Marines in 64 we talked about what to do with the bottle. We all decided that
once we were out of the military we would have a drink for the good old days. Nam
was just starting up. No one gave it a second thought.   So the bottle
was left with Keith, and we were all invincible. Bernie joined the Naval
reserve and Keith joined the regular Navy. I went off to boot camp and began my
stint in the Marines. Four months later I was now a fine tuned lean green
fighting machine. I came home on leave and just kicked around the old haunts.
For some reason Bernie thought the Marine uniform was better looking then
his Navy uniform. Must have seemed like a babe magnet to him. He decided
to switch branches of service, and join his friend in the Marines. I
went back to M.C.. R.D. San Diego for school. They made me an electronic
tech. While in school Bernie went to boot camp there and I did a little bull
crapping and got him out on a Sunday for a family visit. We laughed
talked and in general had a pleasant day. This was the last time I saw
Bernie alive. He went home on his boot leave and reported back to Camp
Pendleton to join his new outfit. When he got there they were already starting to
get ready to go over. Nam was now a destination. I was still in school
and could not get up there before he left. When I got out of school I
also went to Camp Pendleton, and joined the 5th Marines. That is when I got the
news that Bernie had been sent home in a small container. He stepped on a
land mine. I was devastated, hurt. I wanted revenge! I truly wanted my
pound of flesh. My "so called friends" from back home started writing me hate
mail over Bernie's death. They told me I was responsible for his demise.
That they wished it was me and not him. They did not understand that I
wished the same thing. I was raised by a very strict father and always taught
that men don’t cry. So I pushed it back and fueled it with hate. I did not
want to get close to anyone lest they end up like my friend. I had no one to
turn to and so I found myself as my only support. This was my battle it was
personal. I made a lot of quick friends but none that I was deeply
bonded to. At 20 I learned real quick. Can't drink but you can go to war
and kill. By now you are wondering about Keith. He is the only one that
understood that I was in a real deep world of shit. We were separated by the
branches of service we were in and distance. We told each other we would keep
in touch as much as possible, but something was always missing. Then my
outfit got its orders to pull down its colors - we are going to Nam, and not
coming out as a unit till it's over. Had my prayers been answered?

   In my short statement I said I was never in one place too long
always going TDY somewhere. Some would say I had a death wish, and others
would say I was just crazy. No one knew my motivation. I volunteered to be out
in the bush as much as possible. Made the other techs happy the nut wants
to let him. If I couldn't fix it the field I would bring it back and they
could. Least I could do. It gave me the chance to be where I could get in a
few licks for Bernie, and I took every shot I could. I did a lot of
things over there that I am ashamed of. I took it as a personal affront and acted
on it. I did my job to the best of my ability and I was good at it. Again I
say I am not a hero. I did not save a whole outfit or turn the tide of
war; I did it because I felt I owed it to Bernie. I was in Nam a total of 18
months. I got to go home in Jan 67 for a month and then back across the pond. I
blamed myself for his death. I just could not forgive me. Time passed and
now we come to August 2nd 1967. I volunteered to go out on a simple road
sweep to the out post near An Hoa. Just an extra gun I really wasn't needed.
I caught mid watch on the radio. So my partners decided to let me sleep
in for that fact and the also it was my real birthday. (I'm 22)   When I
woke up I was upset. Then the whole CP. was up and I was called to the main
comm. tent. The patrol had just been hit. I listened in shock. The radioman
was calling in arty on his own position. He was describing the
execution going on. A loud crack then silence. I did not need this. I was in
disbelief. I felt like I let them down, caused more senseless death. Why wasn't I
there? Could I have made the difference? I will never know. The first shirt
asked me why I was still in camp because I had to get his permission when I
go out. I told him my story and he just said someone up there likes you.
"There but for the grace of God go you." He did not ease my pain. God how I
wanted to die! I vowed from that day forward I would not work on my birthday.
Thus far I have kept that promise in their memory. I celebrate two
birthdays. This year I will be 56 and 34. The pain is still there!

    I got out of Nam in September that year. I was reassigned to 2nd
Marines on the East coast. I put in to be TDYed to Cuba. I went down
there in Oct. The fates work in some weird ways. It just so happened that
my old friend Keith was onboard the Big E. So one Sunday, still being young
and stupid, I rented a 16-foot outboard and drove it up to the Big E. Did
not realize it was really that BIG. Fortunately I did not get shot. I
did, however, get my behind chewed and digested. We spent the day talking
about this and that trying to avoid the real issue. But it had to be
spoken. I told Keith to keep the bottle, and he said whoever is the last one
standing gets the prize. (We knew nothing of a tontine or what it was it was
just something from our virgin years to win) I had all but forgot about it
till last year when I got it sent to me by Keith's widow. I figured I
would or should have been gone a long time ago. To date somehow I have
survived (thus my E address). I survived Nam, malaria, falling out of a two-story
window, being run off the road by an 18-wheeler, and 2 heart attacks.
Sometimes I wish for death. I am not afraid to die. Sometimes I feel it must be
better then what has been placed in front of me.

   When I was finally discharged, and came home I had a lot of issues
to resolve. Everything from temperament to fear of sleeping. I seen a
shrink for 5 years. After all that he could only say you have to forgive
yourself. I still have not. They did not make it general knowledge about PTSD
in the late 60's. So I've carried these wounds with me all these years. I
visited the moving wall in the early 80's when it came to Chicago. Thought I
could handle it (wrong). It did one thing that shocked people I know. It
made me cry, and people told me it was all right to let go. But some where
inside a voice told me men don’t cry. They have to be strong. So I did my best
to say my piece and recompose my self. I finally got to the Wall in DC. In
June 1992. I lost all control and turned into a basket case. I did get
some peace at the Wall. I cried till there was no more, but now I cry when
I remember. I doubt I will ever get rid of all the pain, but come
Memorial Day I will have one last drink with Bernie. Maybe then I will find peace.

  **JuB-NaD'ChoH

**Dan is a Klingon Warrior.

Dan had his long-promised final drink with Bernie on Memorial Day. Then, on 22 November 2001, Dan rejoined his friends Bernie and Keith for eternity. May he rest in Peace. Semper Fi. --TPW

My Friend Dan - Garland L. Young

Dan and I sat outside on the Balcony of the Hotel at Beach Bash. It was Thursday night. We talked about so many things. So much to discuss so little time. I told him that when I die I want to go into space and see what is there. That's the real reason I love Star Trek so much. I told him that instead of becoming anything like an angel or whatever, I just want a small planet and let me work it, turn me loose. Dan really liked that idea. I know he will do well with his world. In the last Star Trek with the original crew, Kirk quoted Sir J. M. Barrie. When asked, "Where do we go from here, Sir?" Kirk replied, "... Second Star to the right and straight on till morning." It will be morning here soon and I am confident my friend, JuB-naD' ChoH is making good time to his Star.

Sirviven's Friend,

Garland

Dan JuB-NaDChoH 'Homeworld'.jpg (25856 bytes)

JUST A COMMON SOLDIER

(A Soldier Died Today)

by A. Lawrence Vaincourt

He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast,

And he sat around the Legion, telling stories of the past

Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done,

In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, every one.

And tho' sometimes, to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,

All his Legion buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.

But we'll hear his tales no longer for old Bill has passed away,

And the world's a little poorer, for a soldier died today.

He will not be mourned by many, just his children and his wife,

For he lived an ordinary and quite uneventful life.

Held a job and raised a family, quietly going his own way,

And the world won't note his passing, though a soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state,

While thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great.

Papers tell their whole life stories, from the time that they were young,

But the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land

A guy who breaks his promises and cons his fellow man?

Or the ordinary fellow who, in times of war and strife,

Goes off to serve his Country and offers up his life?

A politician's stipend and the style in which he lives

Are sometimes disproportionate to the service that he gives.

While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,

Is paid off with a medal and perhaps, a pension small.

It's so easy to forget them for it was so long ago,

That the old Bills of our Country went to battle, but we know

It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys,

Who won for us the freedom that our Country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger, with your enemies at hand,

Would you want a politician with his ever-shifting stand?

Or would you prefer a soldier, who has sworn to defend

His home, his kin and Country and would fight until the end?

He was just a common soldier and his ranks are growing thin,

But his presence should remind us we may need his like again.

For when countries are in conflict, then we find the soldier's part

Is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor while he's here to hear the praise,

Then at least let's give him homage at the ending of his days.

Perhaps just a simple headline in a paper that would say,

Our Country is in mourning, for a soldier died today.

Used with permission of Randy Vaincourt

http://www.vaincourt.homestead.com/

Night Night Danno by Christina Sharik

Determined, dependable, dear friend

Adult, with penchant for toys

Needed

Intelligent and inventive

Expressive, ever and always there

Lost to us too soon.

Night night Sirviven, never goodbye.

Enjoy your front seat ride to the sky

Goodnight Dan, wherever you are,

On your way to your planet,

A bright shining star.

For Dan

USMC Photo

One Last Ride For Dan (A Perfect Day)

It was a day like none before

That I had ever seen

And one a mortal human finds

So few times in a life

That’s full of days both grim and fine.

Ah, this one was A Perfect Day

The last one of November in ‘01

And so superbly suited for a ride

On two wheels rolling down the road

So very fast but sometimes slowly too

To savor every moment, every breath,

And every view.

My steely steed without a windshield

Takes the world and wind head on

Streaking down the two-lane roads ~

Paved smooth now for the tourists

Who’ve gone back from whence they came ~

But so nice for the ride

That smoothed firm surface

Perfect for the ride

That I took all alone

No other bikers passed me

Either way ~

But in fact I traveled not alone

For I found Dan had come along.

I knew that this was truly so

When I mounted my machine

On which I find true freedom

Yes! Sweet exhilaration!

So like a mammoth roller coaster

Those Dan loved so much to ride

When memories of a world and time

Which pained him deeply

Were too much for him to bear

With silent endurance, quietly

And pent-up grief and hurt

Must have release!

And so it was

I took a last ride of the season

For Dan, who died so recently

And for myself ~

To remember him well

And hold him close

Then let him go while keeping all the best

Of what he gave me

As the whirling, thrumming wheels

Of thrilling freedom swept me on…

My destination was the wondrous lake

Not far ~ And all my favorite places

That I had not seen in years

And Dan rode along

For he could do that now

Unfettered and unchained

By the grim and grinding grip of life

That bound him

On this earth.

To dust his body will return

But his soul had been so swiftly freed

And thus he rode along with me that day ~

On that One Last Ride

I took on that One

Last

Perfect

Day.

Indian Summer gave forth

One more breathing cycle of time

With strong warm wrapping rays of sun

And foliage gleaming brightest colors still

One day before the first cold blast

Removed them from the limbs

Where they had clung

And sent them quickly downward

With an icy, wintry wind.

I rode ahead of that, though

And with the gentle warming breeze

On that ideal day

And I leaned into the curves

And climbed the hills full powered

Then coasted down them

Running through the gears

And back, in perfect sync

To feel the thrill with each shift smoothly

As the power beneath my body

Pushed, propelled me forward

And up

And down

And round each hill and bend.

I stopped at one small lake first ~

One from which the small town drinks

And lit a cigarette

Thinking of how they helped to kill

My beloved friend

Sirviven Dan, who loved

And cared for people

But not his life

Not since the war.

I sat right in the sun on my machine

The motor stilled for an endless time

The sun’s rays almost hot upon my chest

When I sat still for it and Dan

I stretched my legs then

Walked around but not far

Right down to the water’s edge

The line quite high now

After heavy rains last Sunday.

The high cliffs on the other side of me

And of the water

Showed shale in sliding sheets

Of muted colors blending but contrasting

Due to glorious tricks of sun and shadow

In the waning afternoon.

So full was I of thoughts of Dan

As I gazed high up the cliff side

Scary in the very heights

That thrilled Dan on his rollies

And made him feel ALIVE…

Then when the time to move had come

I kicked the cycle’s engine

Into humming, straining power once more

And drove on down the road

To Cato Creek…

…where memories

Lay thick as autumn leaves ~

The early falling kinds

Piled up in windswept dunes.

But they could not conceal

Those memories…

Of many days and nights spent there

And on this day

I was aware e’en as I rode and reveled ~

And briefly, deeply wept for missing him ~

That I was then creating

A complete and new collection

Of my memories of Dan

And how he rode with me

On that last perfect

Indian Summer day…

Vicki Spencer

November-December 2001

USMC Photo

If You're Looking for Quality MIDI Files, Please Be Sure to Visit

The Official Archive of Sequences Created by Gary Wachtel (GaryW0001@AOL.com)

Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork

View My GuestbookSign My Guestbook