The First
Thing You See Is The Dust,
People,
Helicopters And Trucks
Runnin’, Flyin’
And Drivin,’
It Looks Like The Worlds’ Gone
An Old M-48,
Nick-Named The Iron Bitch,
Sits Quietly And Cold At The Front Gate,
No One Needs
Her, So No Really Sees Her,
The Iron Bitch
Is Not Wanted Anymore.
A Shell Of What She Once Was,
You Wonder
About What Happen To Her,
Was She Just
Abandoned and Forgotten,
Or Did Victor
Charlie Knock Her Out?
A Once Proud And Powerful Lady,
Now Just Another Casualty Of War.
What Of the Crew That Once Manned Her,
Are They Just
As Cold and Forgotten?
Once In
You Find Chaos
Rules,
Everybody
Going Somewhere,
But All Going Nowhere.
Dogs Like The People Runnin’ Amuck,
The Vietnamese
Are Cleanin’ Up,
The Shit
Detail Is Burnin’ Up,
And The Smell
Makes You Want To Throw Up.
What Have I
Gotten Myself Into,
A Mad House
Choc Full Of Nuts,
There’s
Airborne Over There,
And The LURP’s Over Here.
Sneaky Pete Is
Hiding,
Out At
Grunts Are
Here Smoking,
And The Medics
Busy Sewing.
Ask One For Directions,
No One Knows
Where,
There Is
Good God, What
Am I Doin’ Here?
Look Around And What Do You See,
19 Year Olds
Walking, Carryin’ Guns,
19 Year Olds Bein’ Carried In Body Bags,
19 Year Olds With Death In Their Eyes.
Look Around Somemore,
Those 19 Year
Olds are 50,
Old Way Beyond Their Years,
They Live The Years By Days.
The
Helicopters Flyin’ In And Out,
Make A Sound You’ll Recall The Rest Of Your Life,
These Damn
Silly Rotating Winged Machines,
For The Rest
Of Your Life Come Into Your Dreams.
Slicks, Snakes
And Loachs,
Buzzin’ All Round Your Head,
It’s Like Bein’ in A Bee Hive,
You Just Want
To Cover Your Head.
Over There Are
Slicks With Bullet Holes,
Close By are Some Covered In Blood,
All Look Tired
And Old,
Just Like All
Those 19 Year Olds.
The Men Who
Fly In Them,
Are Also By Age Mere Boys,
Death Is What
Makes Them Old,
Do You Now
Dare Call Them Boys?
Over Head Is The Sound Of Death,
Snakes Heading
Out On Patrol,
Shark’s Teeth
Painted For All To See,
I Am Glad They
Ain’t Lookin’ For Me.
Over The Other
Side Of Camp
You Hear The Boom
Out Bound Mail
Is On It’s Way,
Everyone Hopes
Charlie Catches It Today.
Hooches Of
Tin And Wood,
Blast Walls of
Barrels And Sand,
Men Sleeping,
But Always Awake,
Worried
Charlie May Visit Tonight.
Guns At Bunkside, Ready For Use.
Boots With Zippers Near Their Feet,
Oh God! Give
Us A Good Nights Sleep,
Let Us All See
The New Day Safe.
Dreams Of Better Times
Never Last
Long These days,
Sleep Is Hard
To Get,
When The Rats Run Over Your
Face.
Dreams Of Home And Firefights,
Overhead Goes The H&I For The Night,
Quiet Nights
Are In The Past,
These Times Are For Nightmares And Dying.
On The Bunker
Line For The Night,
Four To Five
Very Tired men,
One Watches
While The Others,
Try To Rest
Without Dying.
Gooks In The Wire,
All Hell
Breaks Loose,
Only The Fucking Duty Officer, Or
A Water Buffalo
Not The Gook You Thought You Saw.
Fu-Gas,
Claymores And Other Toys of War
In The Hands Of Tired And Scared Men,
It Sure Wasn’t
Like This In JW’s War,
The Pain And The Dying Here Is Real
After All,
This Is My War.
John W. Devins Started 1996 Finished?
