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By: CCPoems4U~
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LT sent us up that hill, on orders from the brass.
Sarge threatened us with walking point or he would kick our ass.
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At 20, I was the oldest, the rest were younger still
Our faces showed the burden of just how it feels to kill.
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We struggled with reality, in a war we could not win,
But the brass had got there body count and notified their kin.
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Yogi, Bo & T.J., Frankie, Nick & Jack,
All claimed short timer’s armor, but still watched each other’s back.
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Jungle rot and booby traps and that ammonia smell,
Bugs and snakes and monsoon rain, in an unforgiving hell.
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My time grew short and there we were, a quiet little town.
When all at once all hell broke loose, as the rockets showered down.
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Then someone yelled “cease fire”, and we’d have never guessed,
That only seconds later, we’d take our final test.
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Two children scurried from a shack as we watched in disbelief,
Never thinking for a moment, they’d bring us only grief.
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A boy, a stick clenched in his hand, came running down the trail,
A girl ran close behind him with her swinging pony tail.
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In the emotion of the moment, we relaxed and had no plan,
But on the stick the kid was wielding, was an old C-Ration can.
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He whipped the thing right past my ear, and further down the road,
I never knew just what it was, till I heard it explode.
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Then in that mad, mad moment, all innocence was gone,
Yes, gone and gone forever, on that gray Vietnam morn.
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In rage we raised our weapons and hate was all I felt,
But as the Kids stared back at me, my hate began to melt.
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I froze, and then I felt a tear, as my heart began to pound,
Suddenly two shots rang out and both kids hit the ground.
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VC, VC, someone cried out, VC there in that tree,
He jumped and took off down the road and somehow made it free.
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The kids just lay there motionless, but we were all alive,
And blood and smoke was everywhere as the air support arrived.
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The choppers buzzed and blasted, as we searched each little hooch,
And I knew if we came eye to eye Id waste that stinking gook.
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That memory still haunts me, I can see those kids go down,
And I still can smell the Napalm as it singed each inch of ground.
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My time there may have changed me, though I can’t say why or how.
But I felt it was important to share this with you now.
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And should there be a next time, let’s think not once but twice,
And work it out another way, or pay the final price.
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Dave Smith
5/24/69