Ballad of the Woman Veteran

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I was a soldier, a fighter tried and true.
You don't remember me, but I went there for you.
I had my share of combat, I saw the blood and gore,
But somehow I'm forgotten when they tell about the war.

I was just a frightened kid, fresh out of school.
When I volunteered to go, my friends called me a fool.
I believed in my country, and all that it stood for,
I believed I'd be remembered when they told about the war.

But everything seemed different when I got to the war zone:
The men had their buddies, but I felt all alone.
I was true to my country, faithful to the core,
But began to feel excluded when I came home from the war.

I was erased from your memory by the cruelest of ploys.
You don't recognize me 'cause I'm not one of the boys.
I'm the woman who saved you when you were at death's door.
My God, don't forget me when you tell about the war!

They say we weren't real soldiers, even though our blood was spilled.
They forgot about our wounded, they forgot about our killed.
Some say that we just partied there, and enjoyed our deadly chore.
I resent those lies about me when they tell about the war.

Women have war stories we need desperately to tell.
They're not very pretty, they're painful as hell:
Body bags and body count, we kept the grisly score,
Now reduced to cold statistics of long-forgotten wars.

From the days of Revolution and the bloody Civil War,
In the world-wide conflagrations, the uniform I wore.
In the battles of Korea and the jungles of Viet Nam,
Don't tell me now I wasn't there, I know who I am.

I'm a woman and a veteran, and I say it with great pride.
I gave the very best I had, there's nothing I need hide.
I have the right to know that the burden that I bore
Will always be remembered when they tell about the war.

--words and music by Frank Warman, Ph D. 1985