Seawolf Poems

Look God

by Mike Schafernocker (The Delta Mauler)
Mike Schaffernocker flew as a door gunner with the Seawolves in 1969. Keenly aware of his own mortality, he wrote this poem and titled it “Look God”.

Look God, I have never spoken to you,
But now I want to say, “How do you do”.
You see, God, they told me you didn’t exist,
And like a fool, I believed all this.
Last night from a shell hole, I saw your sky.
I figured right then, they had told me a lie.
Had I taken time to see the things you made,
I’d have known they weren’t calling a spade a spade.

I wonder, God, if you’d shake my hand.
Somehow I feel you will understand.
Funny, I had to come to this hellish place,
Before I had time to see your face.

Well, I guess there isn’t much more to say,
But I sure am glad, God , that I met you today.
I guess the zero hour will soon be here,
But I’m not afraid since I know you’re near.

The signal, well, God, I’ll have to go,
I like you lots and I want you to know.
Look now, this will be a horrible fight,
Why, who knows, I may come to your house tonight.

Though I wasn’t friendly to you before,
I wonder, God, if you’d wait by the door.
Look, I’m crying…Me, shedding tears,
I wish I’d have known you better, these many years.

Well, God, I’ll have to go now, goodbye…
Strange, since I met you…I’m not afraid to die.

Mikes fire team was ambushed in a helicopter trap on the
Cambodian border. He fell out of the aircraft and was
hanging by his gunners belt when it crashed on him.
Born February 28,1949, Died April 28, 1969

A Poem Just for You Seawolves

by Dorothy Schafernocker

To all my “sons” Both near and far
I often wonder where and how you are.
I’ve met so many Vietnam Vets,
When I was “honored” to drive the “Moving Wall”, and yet,

We’re almost like passing ships in the night…
We meet for awhile, then each disappears out of sight.

Our lives are like signposts, on our trip through life,
Pointing the way with compassion and love, even through strife.

You each have helped me with the death of my son.
I’ll never forget you, I feel we are all one!
To have known you, if only for a short time,
I can’t seem to express these deep feelings of mine.
God has blessed me and he’ll bless you, too
Thats my prayer for each of you.
So my way of thanking you is a hug filled with love,
And “Mike” thanks you, too, from Heaven above.

God Bless Each of you,
Dorothy “Momma” Schafernocker

Door Gunner

From the April 1993 Wolfgram
by Jack Adams

Didn’t stand out much in Vietnam War
The one, NVA were trying for.
Inside the chopper door.
Called the door gunner, eyes like a hawk.
Never said much, wasn’t there to talk.

Choppers came in , he went to work,
Bullets ripping up the jungle, making enemy eat dirt.

Swinging machine gun side to side,
Not many challenged him, those who did died.

Loaded wounded under his cover,
Mean and lean, like a big brother.

Empty brass casings on the floor,
Smoke and fire coming out his door.

Blades whiring overhead,
Loaded wounded, now are dead.

Ready for flight,
Door gunner blazing continues fight.

Extra weight chopper moves slow,
Up turning, ready to go.

Empty brass casings, raining from the blue,
Door gunner, big brother still watching over you.


From the April 1993 Wolfgram
by Dave Paduan

Guilt for not getting there to save some
For having to leave station too soon and loosing more
For not killing more of them to save more of us
For living while they all died
For leaving comrads without cover, while I went home
For forgetting the names of my friends who died
For turning away from those who meant so much to me in Nam after our return
Bcause they knew me too well.
Only now am I able to begin to mourn for those I couldn’t cover.
For my enemy, whom I killed and whom I can now think of as other men.
For my friends lost to my isolation.

We were boys revelling in the terrible power of our gunships
Alive and living by our wits and skills
Knit close in our dependency to each other yet alone in his fears
And unable to show them to anyone.
Not even his wingman.
Not able to ask for help and support from anyone.
Not even his wingman.

After returning home, forced by a country that didn’t care
To put all these things away, to collect interest.
So that now, when debts must finally be paid
The price is so very dear.
Costing friends, a wife and years without living fully
And doing it without the cover of a wingman.

Only now, 15 years later, I’m learning that I have feelings.
The first to come are hurt for all the losses, past and present,
And fear that people will turn away in horror and disgust
If they see the real me without all my defenses in place,
A killer without absolution.

I don’t wish to forget
I only want to be rid of the guilt
and be comfortable with the memories, good and bad.
By starting to mourn
I start down path that will allow me to forgive myself
And make it unimportant that this country failed to bring it’s soldiers home.
I will bring myself home.
Not alone, but with the help of others who were there
We’ll bring each other home.

A Tear in My Eye

From the April 1993 Wolfgram
by Freddy T. Stark
Det. 1 Seawolf
Kansas City Reunion, June 1987

Seawolves together in KC at one time
from all over the country
Binh Thuy and Dets One through Nine.
Pilots, co-pilots, grounders, gunners and mechs
from all walks of life
Americans who would again risk their necks.

With memories of many past fire fights
and good times and bad
rounds taken and popflare lights.

Some with old wounds and loss of limb
thoughts of lost friends
on each cheek a tear for them.

The comradery of a Seawolf no one knows
only those who were there
taking the enemy rockets, mortars and blows.

The unbreakable bond that may lose luster
These tried brave men
to a man are Seawolves at muster.

The Black Beret

By Eric L. Sedlocek
COSDIV 11 & 13

Fighting sailors from the sea
Here to keep the country free.
Men who mean just what they say,
Those brave men of the Black Beret.
Men who sail those rivers brown,
Men who hunt old Charlie down,
Men who fight by night and day,
Those brave men of the Black Beret.

We have seen our young men die,
We have heard the children cry,
Men who will not turn away,
Those brave men of the Black Beret.

Back at home a young wife waits,
Her Black Beret has met his fate,
He will die so far away,
His kids hero,
The Black Beret.

Fighting sailors from the sea,
Here to keep a country free,
Men who mean just what they say,
Those brave men, those Black Berets!