That little jeep he drove! Strange — it looks like him — So strong its power of build — Empty, it stands above The mountains crusty rim, Just as his hand had willed, Empty — its driver gone — His medals won!
A jeep stands alone at the edge of a mountain, and the speaker can't look at it without seeing the man who drove it. She says it even resembles him: solid, strongly built, powerful. But the vehicle is empty. Its driver is gone, and the poem never says outright where, though the mention of medals suggests he died a hero, probably in service of some kind. That is an inference from the text, not something the poem states.
The mood is quiet and heavy with loss, but it isn't only grief. There's pride in it too. The jeep sits exactly where "his hand had willed," as if the man's last choice is still being honored. Short lines and dashes make the voice halting, like someone speaking through emotion. The final exclamation, "His medals won!", sounds almost like a salute, turning the empty machine into a monument.