Richard E. deFreitas

EXPERIENCE

The jungle was thick, the heat made us sick.
Our job was to “search and destroy.”
We went on patrol, we traveled a click,*
and had thirty men to deploy.

We found no V.C. So where could they be?
The foliage was thick as it gets.
If “Charley” was there, I’m sure he would see.
His absence was causing us fits.

A man up ahead was screaming with dread.
He could have been dying for sure.
Perhaps he was being tortured instead.
It must have been hard to endure.

I would have to say: ‘Twas spooky that day.
We did not know what to expect.
A twig snapping din was headed our way.
What it was we could not detect.

I’ve never seen eyes get bigger than pies
For we could not see through the brush.
The screams got worse under Vietnam skies
And headed our way in a rush.

Standing like cattle, wearing a saddle
And poised for whatever we saw.
Expecting the worst, ready for battle,
We’d try to beat them to the draw.

He finally broke through the brush then we knew.
It wasn’t the nasty V.C.s.
But far worse than that, and on him like glue,
Were hundreds and hundreds of bees.

Could not see his head and somebody said,
“I’ll try to go give him a hand.”
Those bees jumped him too. We though both were dead.
It wasn’t quite what he had planned.

My back pack went here, my rifle went there,
And I just took off like a shot.
The jungle was thick, but I did not care,
For I did not want to get caught.

I ran through the trees away from the bees,
Then stopped to look back where I’d been.
I heard lots of screams and plenty of pleas.
That’s when I got stung on the chin.

It happened so soon, and just about noon
The bees settled down for a spell.
They hurt us for sure and split our platoon.
Were they resting to give us more hell?

We had to collect our stuff and elect
A way to hook up with the rest.
With bees in between, we had to select
A route that put us to the test.

I was the first, expecting the worst.
We had to go back where we’d been.
Bees everywhere, I quietly cursed,
I knew they would rise up again.

Whatever went wrong, it didn’t take long.
They hit the last men in our line.
Upon us again, confusion was strong,
And terror was our vital sign.

With many more cries, from many more guys.
Those bees would not leave us alone.
We needed a fix; a way to devise
protection that we all could own.

Some help was given. To keep on livin’:
“Sit down and remain very still.”
Whoever said that had to be driven
By the fact that these bees could kill.

We sat down and froze, from eyes to our toes,
And the bees couldn’t find us at all.
They flew up and down not stinging a nose.
We knew it was just the right call.

Not one man had died, so friends had not cried.
But everyone figured it out.
We learned about bees and I have not lied.
Experience is what it’s about.

©Copyright circa 2000 by Richard E. deFreitas