Today's Veterans Radio is a replay of our program from December 2018.
It features the music of Michael J. Martin and Tim Da Colade.
Welcome to a special Veterans Radio program. My name is Dale Throneberry, a CW2 Huey pilot in Vietnam in 1969.
Today's program is a special one I've been wanting to do for many years.
Actually, since the first time I met Michael J. Martin, he was a frequent guest on Veterans Radio and was one of our favorites.
He had one of those tried-and-true old troubadour type voices and talents.
He lived the songs he wrote and sang, and his music had some miles on him.
He and his partner Tim Da Colade started writing and recording their music back in the 80s.
They led marches from Texas to Washington to make people in the government aware of what was happening to Vietnam Veterans.
Unfortunately, they're both gone now, but their music is still inspiring veterans of all ages.
It's as powerful as it is emotional.
You can now order some of these remastered CDs of Michael J. Martin and Tim Holiday by contacting Andy Martin at AndyMartin23 at RocketMail.com.
That's Andy with a Y, Martin23 at RocketMail.com.
So sit back and enjoy the music of Michael J. Martin and Tim Holiday.
Let us know what you think.
If you like it, we'll plan more programs dedicated to music written, produced, and performed by veterans.
Enjoy.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Sound off.
1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, let's roll.
Hey, Alkater, listen up.
You never should have messed with us.
Push has found a calm to shove.
Now we're gonna kick your butt.
Say, sound off.
1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, let's roll.
Lift, lift.
Saddam Hussein, your history.
We puttin' into your tyranny.
When we're done with this damn war.
You won't be around no more.
Slam, bam, bye, bye, Saddam.
Say, sound off.
1, 2, sound off.
3, 4, united with Sam.
1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, let's roll.
Uncle Sam, you listen too.
There's somethin' we expect of you.
You send our people off the war.
Don't leave them unaccounted for.
That is not acceptable.
They are not expendable.
P-O-W-M-I-A.
Right here in the U.S.A.
We're sick of the A run around.
We won't respect what we want it now.
R-E-S-B-E-C-T.
For those who keep our liberty.
L-I-B-E-R-T-Y.
The price you pay is mighty high.
J-U-S-D-I-C-E.
For New York City and D.C.
The I-C-T-O-R-Y.
By God, we got it right this time.
Say Sound off.
Sound off.
United we stand.
Let's roll.
America, here the call.
United we stand, divided we fall.
All for one and one for all.
Let's get it done once and for all.
Say Sound off.
Sound off.
United we stand.
One, two, three, four, one, two.
Let's roll.
She's got her suitcase full of secrets.
That she's looking to unload.
That she's carrying a baggage that she's carried with her.
Everywhere she goes.
And on her wrist there is a bracelet.
With a name she might have known.
A friend or a lover lost.
Who never came back home.
Her eyes have looked into the eyes of martyrs.
And her hands have held their beating hearts.
And nowhere only makes it harder.
And believing, Lord, that hurts too much to start.
Turn away from the room for the diet.
Keep your mind on keeping one alive.
Turn away from the screaming and the crying.
That's the only way one will survive.
With her suitcase full of secrets.
She stops and stands a while.
She stares into the faces of the statue of three men.
They remind her of the soldiers that she'd only known a while.
She wonders if they've made it back and what's become of them.
She didn't even know their names, but she kept smiling.
She learned long ago not to cry.
But still there's the ghost of emotion.
And the beating of the heart she can't deny.
Turn away from the room for the diet.
Keep your mind on keeping one alive.
Turn away from the screaming and the crying.
That's the only way one will survive.
With her suitcase full of secrets.
She walks down to the wall.
She finally sets it down.
She shakes her head and she starts to cry.
Then a soldier stands beside her.
He puts his hand upon her shoulder.
He gently lifts her face.
He looks for something in her eyes.
Said, I remember your sad eyes smiling.
I don't even know your name and you don't know mine.
And I never even had the chance to tell you.
Thank you for keeping me alive.
Said, I remember your sad eyes smiling.
I don't even know your name and you don't know mine.
And I never even had the chance to tell you.
Thank you for keeping me alive.
Hear me now.
Thank you for keeping me alive.
With a promise of prayers and a pat on the back.
We kissed the boys and the girls goodbye.
And they were already there before we could ask if someone could please tell us why.
Well, the reasons were there.
The usual fare, you know, freedom, liberty.
But if anyone cares, I just wonder in where.
Where will the next wall be?
Somebody tell me, where will the next wall be?
Maybe somewhere near the other one there in D.C.
That is, if that one's still standing when the firing ceased.
Think about it.
Where will the next wall be?
Now, this won't be like the nine this time.
We'll buy them.
Smythe buy them.
It kills only the bad guys.
We're all tear army to stand there in harm's way.
I reckon they're all ready to die.
But it's our sons and fathers and husbands and brothers and sisters and daughters and wives and mothers this time.
Oh, Lord, when they're done counting casualties, how tall will the next wall be?
Will it be like a mountain to climb?
Somebody tell me, how tall will the next wall be?
The price we may pay may be mighty steep.
Like the tower of Babel.
Oh, Lord, tell me please.
How tall will the next wall be?
And how long to the sound of the savers stops crashing?
And how long will our ears still hear ringing?
And how long will the air be choked with the ashes?
And how long will the children stop singing?
And how long after the dead are all buried?
Will the prisoners of war be free?
And when a monument's done, so we'll always remember, how long will the next wall be?
Somebody tell me, how long will the next wall be?
Is there an end to this madness?
Will there ever be peace?
Somebody's got to ask the questions.
How long will the next wall be?
How tall will the next wall be?
Where will the next wall be?
And when will the last war be?
The scout on this cattle-drive was a black fellow named Josh Dietz.
He was a good, reliable man with uncanny senses and uncommonly good sense.
Dietz enjoyed the simple pleasures of life.
At night, he liked to ride the herd and calm them cows with little tunes.
Well, sometimes at night, I look so bad the sky wants to take me right on the moon.
And if there's peace falling quiet, I can ease my poor mind.
Why don't look like it'd be hard to do?
I just fetch me a ladder while she's hanging low.
And Clavagham Hoffer, a 21111.
No need to sadden me, why just grab me a hold?
And take me right on the moon.
Take me right on the moon.
Round up the stray stars, meet back with old Maureen.
Take me right on the moon.
With Maureen there's bound to be work that needs done.
The cattle's a cow on me.
And there's a way to be found that no one sees what no other man sees.
Yeah, these eyes, no signs, most wounds below my teeth.
His ears are far away to a wall.
A lord I wish I had time, need my aptitude behind.
And take me right on the moon.
Take me right on the moon.
I'm a son of a...
Take me right on the moon.
Round up the stray stars, meet back with old Maureen.
Take me right on the moon.
When I can't read right or left, but I don't miss a trick.
Yes, I can track most of the man down.
Horse Mr. Gus, he gets a kick. He like to judge me a bit.
Why he told me this old world was round.
Of course I know he was judging.
But I keep my dreams to myself and I don't tell the woman's.
Lord had a laugh in that ho-wo-wo-wo.
But it makes me feel good just pretending I could.
Take me right on the moon.
Round up the stray stars, meet back with old Maureen.
Take me right on the moon.
Well, I'm a son of this man.
Take me right on the moon.
Round up the stray stars, meet back with old Maureen.
Take me right on the moon.
Moon.
One night this fellow at the bar
started talking about the war.
Tears of age welled up in his eyes.
He said he had been through well in the jungles and the jails.
Just lost another job and another wife.
He said that just don't understand what it does to a man.
I just had seen the shake from my mind.
I pulled up his tune.
I said he'd shake a hand of another thing.
I was there in 68 and 69.
And they ain't gonna bear with me while I'm still loose.
Ain't gonna shut me up till my story's been told.
I don't need no courage.
I don't need no forgiveness.
I just need to know I ain't here alone.
I said I ain't never been too sure if it was luck or the law.
I just know somehow I survived.
I slipped out in the rain.
I've been down there blown away.
But what if I got learned how to fight?
When I had to decide if it was them or me,
gonna never die.
There was no time for analyzing.
I'm alright.
I got a new year of regrets.
I got a lot of things I just can't forget.
But buddy, I'm just glad to be alive.
They ain't gonna bear with me while I'm still living.
Ain't gonna shut me up till my story's been told.
I don't need no courage.
I don't need no forgiveness.
I just need to know I ain't here alone.
I feel that we're strangers, but we're tough like we were brothers.
Left about to leeches and all the girls on the marina.
About to monsters and all the sun and the NBA and the Vietcong.
And we cried about our buddies.
We died in that damn war.
And we're lost in the waves and all the bitterness and rain.
I'm coming back and finding out nobody can know.
We're but our arms around each other.
We're just two more weary warriors.
We didn't feel quite so long as we had felt before.
We're just like, ain't gonna bear with me while I'm still living.
Ain't gonna shut me up till my story's been told.
I don't need no courage.
I don't need no forgiveness.
I just need to know I ain't here alone.
We sang, ain't gonna bear with me while I'm still living.
Ain't gonna shut me up till my story's been told.
I don't need no courage.
I just need to know I ain't here alone.
Well, we rode down to Texas from our homes in Tennessee.
Looking for a reason worth fighting for.
Some called it liberty.
I never knew it'd be so hard to number.
But I guess I'd have to do it again.
But don't you worry about me, dear daughter.
I am with my friends.
We had a chance to choose surrender.
But we were bound to cross that line.
We are the Alamos defenders.
We'll pay the price to buy some time.
There's a reason to remember.
It's in the hearts of all good men.
But don't you worry about me, dear daughter.
I am with my friends.
Don't you worry about me, dear daughter.
I am with my friends.
There's never a need to explain yourself when you're the man among men.
It's the most desperate situation.
I never have the name.
But don't you worry about me, dear daughter.
I am with my friends.
Well, as I write this letter, it's like I'm looking in your eyes.
There's so much I want to say, dear daughter.
But it's time to bid goodbye.
You know your daddy loves you.
I think I'm in now.
Don't you worry about me, dear daughter.
I am with my friends.
Don't you worry about me, dear daughter.
I am with my friends.
Welcome back to our special program of the music of Michael J. Martin and Tim Doc Holliday.
We hope that you are enjoying the program.
The next tune is coming up as one that we're all aware of and one that we're always find very humorous.
So I hope that you enjoy it.
Let us know if you enjoy this program and we'll do it again sometime.
Here's the VA shuffle.
VA shuffle.