Mark enlisted in the Army as an engineer. After a few years, he was commissioned in the Military Police Corps as a graduate of Officer Candidate School. He was later dual-branched as a Military Intelligence officer specialized in Counterintelligence. He retired as LTC from the Joint Staff after 25 years of service and now works as a Duty Director in the National Operations Center, Homeland Security. Mark’s wife, Patty Reese, is a well-known local musician, who writes most of her own songs. Patty sang "Last Call for Love” and “Keep Me in Your Heart,” at a surprise visit to the MDWP tent on a Memorial Day in Washington, DC.
To hear Patty’s songs, click on the link below: Over lush green fields we did tread, Ten thousand names, ten thousand stones, I yearned to grow that I might be, Ever proud of our nation’s past, Lying in our eternal bed, For God, country, they raise the hand, Of those who serve there’s daily word, Who drive the team while Dad’s away, Who read the stories beside the bed, Who raise the kids with values strong, Who write letters that lift the soul, Who send pictures to mark the years, Whose trees with yellow ribbons adorn, Whose candles in the window burn, Who dress again the severed arm, Who those abed their spirits mend, Who in worship bend knee and pray, Lend friends shoulders on which to grieve, For parents’ pride o’er sharp new pain, For lonely widow’s lost caress, For child’s fond thoughts as pictures fade, Who scribe lost names upon the plaque, Who drape star-studded casket pall, Who mournful Taps at graveside play, Who plant Old Glory on graveyard plots, Who calmly bear harsh protest word, Who forward rush for new first kiss, Dear Lord, grant thy sheltering hand, The thrill of the first kiss, The brief interlude at home, The sharp report, The long journey home, Mark Pankow
Footsteps
Among the stones of honored dead,
As my father sought to impart,
To me a young patriot heart,
Ten thousand souls who’d left their homes,
To take an oath, a solemn pledge,
Chose country over privilege,
What my father had hoped for me,
Til my day came and I stood in ranks,
or his example gave my thanks,
I trained to fight, to win, to last,
Lived a life of silent sacrifice,
Until I, too, paid freedom’s price,
Above, we hear soft footsteps tread,
As a father seeks to impart,
To his son a patriot heart
For Those Who Also Serve
To join the ranks, defend this land,
To take up arms in noble cause,
Yet for others, too, must we pause,
But naught of those behind is heard,
Whose loved ones their hero’s blood spend,
While they back home the hearth fires tend,
For others’ sake their dreams delay,
And daily strive to clear their head,
Endure each absence far too long,
Mail the cookies worth more than gold,
And silently abate their fears,
Re-read love letters now well worn,
Await each night the sweet return
That once had kept them safe from harm
With sympathetic ear attend
Dread chaplains’ visit some weekday,
Fear one day they’ll the same receive,
Their children lost for freedom’s gain
Whose man was lost in nobleness,
Whose parent their last measure paid,
When those long missed did not come back,
O’er friends who chose and gave their all
Tend fields where honored comrades lay,
Sell Poppies and Forget-Me-Nots,
From ingrates shielded by the sword,
As sharp commands the ranks dismiss,
Then, in full family embrace,
Old fears and loneliness erase.
Protect by grace this favored land,
And those whose selfless acts of love,
The wealth of freedoms daily prove,
Thus, let us all respect reserve,
For those back home who also serve.
Martial Journey
The question and its affirmation,
The decision to stand for something,
The raised hand,
The shock
of hard life of yelling
of sergeants with clipboards
of doing it again and again until you get it right
of dirt and mud and sweat and cold
The awkward words of friends and family
not quite knowing what to say,
The vow to the one, who counts most,
The parting kiss that must last,
The promise to return.
The plunge into the fight,
The instant, instinctive movements
and actions of the well-trained,
The pain of injury,
The greater pain of comrades wounded and lost,
The scene played out again and again,
The eyes that have seen too much and slept too little,
The bad dreams of the present,
The letters bringing good dreams of tomorrow,
The short timer’s calendar.
The Soldier’s new confidence,
The baggage of scars in and out,
The restless, sleepless flight back,
The Soldier’s new doubts and fears of what lies ahead,
The strong hands hefting the heavy pack for the walk down the ramp,
The strong hands shaking in anticipation,
The eyes searching the crowd,
The dismissal and the break from ranks,
The rush forward,
The discarded pack,
The thrill of the first kiss.