I watch them make it all.
A flat spot created by a Daisy Cutter,
on a hilltop only known by a number.
This was a lush tropical forest.
Were it not for a war,
it would be the most beautiful place.
The Sea-bees pushed the fauna back with dozers,
creating a hundred yard killing zone.
I love military terms.
Always so clear in there meaning.
The Marines installed tumble wire and flares,
and more mines then I care to think of...
saturating the now open fields around us.
In one a day, sand bags and plywood arrived.
and seven big cannon, to sweep the area...
like huge killing wipers.
In a week of sunburns, we fashioned a small city.
Bunkers and bedrooms all made from sandbags,
covered in corrugated steel and MORE bags.
Love filling sandbags, all day long in the sun.
We went from a lush tropicle rain forest,
to a lush target... something of great intrest.
We knew they were watching us.
Gathering in the distance, still hiding.
The hela-pad was a busy place now.
Bringing in nosey officers, rations and amo.
All the tools and toys of war were here.
Must be a party brewing on some generals map?
At night, we would blow smoke down barrels.
My only rule was, Our heads are crystal clear in the field.
I was their favorite Sergent, always so lucky.
Recon reported some massing of troops to the south.
Regulars and NVA, just a few hundred.
We laughed about the enemy and took another toke.
During the day we made our sandbag houses into
luxury condominiums, decorating them with everything
we received from home, in our care packages.
At night, we looked out thru small slits in the walls.
Looking over the wire, for this invisible enemy.
Wondering why all was so quite, so serene?
Soon there would be no peace.
Three men to a bunker, watching the perimeter.
Every night we looked out at the open field.
Nothing could cross that area, and live.
Two months earlier, I had saturated a water buffalo
with a 50 caliber machinegun by accident.
I never seen so many holes in an animal.
Who invented these machines?
In my sleep, I think hear lightning.
I awake to the earth shaking my bed,
rockets all around, and men screaming.
Must be a direct hit somewhere close.
We ran to the perimeter.
I kicked every troopers ass I could find
along the way, to cover our position.
In the distance I could see them.
Running in across the field, most without weapons.
Sent to sacerfice them selves, to use up the mines.
To clear a path to us, thru the wire.
When they got close, I could almost see their faces.
Like little boys running, high on opiates.. with riffles firing.
We cut them down, to keep them away.
Sometimes too many, we all fired on full automatic.
I worked the Fifty like a sickle cutting wheat,
laying them down to sleep.
I can not tell you our fear.
I can not tell you of the confusion,
or the rockets that never seem to end.
The medics were busy fixing my friends.
In an hour nothing was moving.
Everything was restored to silence.
We went around and assessed the dead.
The human body can be so beautiful,
but only if it is left untouched by metal.
Soft flesh is a mess, when it is torn in trauma.
My buddy Ron died, and a dozen more.
Their moms would never view their faces.
Some things are best not seen.
We went out to the wire to tag and count the Cong.
The generals would be pleased,
several hundred at lease.
Most looked like little boys.
I got sick when I would find a woman.
Some angry men, started taking souvenirs.
I stopped them at gun point.
I will never know who fell from my fire.
We were all making chaos that night.
I only know looking back, we all wanted to live.
If they had reached us thru the wire, we would die.
In my dreams, I see their bodies,
covering the ground where they fell.
Twisted in odd positions like a bizarre puzzle.
One... I can never solve
Never
I can only dream... again and again
Endeavor
Adding your comment:
Tabitha *rose
)
