PORTRAIT

It's been a little while since the last post. I've been on the road again and things have settled down a little. This entry in Illusration Friday is a portrait of Ira Hayes.


Ira Hayes met a very unfortunate end at the age of 32. He died after a night of drinking and gambling on the Indian reservation. It seems that he accumulated over fifty arrests for public drunkeness. One may wonder why such a person could be of interest to you and I.
Well, it might be the fact that before this sad turn of events, Ira had become a national icon of all that is heroic and good about America, our military, and the Marine Corps. It is also an indictment of how our government failed to take care of a national treasure.
I could try to tell this story in my own words, but I think Johnny Cash did a much better job than I ever could.

"Ira Hayes, Ira Hayes
[CHORUS:]Call him drunken Ira Hayes. He won't answer anymore. Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war.
Gather round me people there's a story I would tell. About a brave young Indian you should remember well.From the land of the Pima Indian A proud and noble band. Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land.
Down the ditches for a thousand years The water grew Ira's peoples' crops'. Till the white man stole the water rights And the sparklin' water stopped.
Now Ira's folks were hungry And their land grew crops of weeds. When war came, Ira volunteered And forgot the white man's greed .
[CHORUS:]Call him drunken Ira Hayes. He won't answer anymore. Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war .
There they battled up Iwo Jima's hill, Two hundred and fifty men. But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again .
And when the fight was over And when Old Glory raised. Among the men who held it high Was the Indian, Ira Hayes!

( Ira Hayes is the man on the far left side of this photo)

[CHORUS:]Call him drunken Ira Hayes. He won't answer anymoreNot the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war .
Ira returned a hero. Celebrated through the land. He was wined and speeched and honored; Everybody shook his hand .
But he was just a Pima Indian, No water, no crops, no chance. At home nobody cared what Ira'd done And when did the Indians dance .
[CHORUS:]Call him drunken Ira Hayes. He won't answer anymore. Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war
Then Ira started drinkin' hard; Jail was often his home. They'd let him raise the flag and lower itl ike you'd throw a dog a bone!
He died drunk one mornin' Alone in the land he fought to save. Two inches of water in a lonely ditch Was a grave for Ira Hayes .
[CHORUS:]Call him drunken Ira HayesHe won't answer anymore. Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war .
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes But his land is just as dry. And his ghost is lyin' thirsty In the ditch where Ira died ".