A Poem About France

A Poem About France

By: Don Fichthorn,

Major USMC (Retired)

A friend of mine forwarded this poem to me yesterday. In its simplicity, it tells the story of what some Americans think of French gratitude for all that America had done for France. . . . I could not have said it better.

If ever there was a nation in need of a lesson in trust, honor, loyalty and pride: France is it.

– THE POEM –

Eleven thousand soldiers

lay beneath the dirt and stone,

all buried on a distant land

so far away from home.

For just a strip of dismal beach

they paid a hero’s price,

to save a foreign nation

they all made the sacrifice.

And now the shores of Normandy

are lined with blocks of white:

Americans who didn’t turn

from someone else’s plight.

Eleven thousand reasons

for the French to take our side,

but in the moment of our need,

they chose to run and hide.

Chirac said every war means loss,

perhaps for France that’s true,

for they’ve lost every battle

since the days of Waterloo.

Without a soldier worth a damn

to be found within the region,

the French became the only land

to need a Foreign Legion.

You French all say we’re arrogant.

Well hell, we’ve earned the right.

We saved your sorry nation

when you lacked the guts to fight.

But now you’ve made a big mistake,

and one that you’ll regret;

you took sides with our enemies,

and that we won’t forget.

It wasn’t just our citizens

you spit on when you turned,

but every one of yours

who fell the day the towers burned.

You spit upon our soldiers,

on our pilots and Marines,

and now you’ll get a little sense

of just what payback means.

So keep your Paris fashions

and your wine and your champagne,

and find some other market

that will buy your aeroplanes.

And try to find somebody else

to wear your French cologne,

for you’re about to find out

what it means to stand alone.

You see, you need us far more

than we ever needed you.

America has better friends

who know how to be true.

I’d rather stand with warriors

who have the will and might,

than huddle in the dark

with those whose only flag is white.

I’ll take the Brits, the Aussies,

the Israelis and the rest,

for when it comes to valor

we have seen that they’re the best.

We’ll count on one another

as we face a moment dire,

while you sit on the sideline

with a sign, “friendship for hire.”

We’ll win this war without you

and we’ll total up the cost,

and take it from your foreign aid,

and then you’ll feel the loss.

And when your nation starts to fall,

well Frenchie, you can spare us,

just call the Germans for a hand,

they know the way to Paris.