Chris Woolnough

THAT BLOODY BATTLE DURING TET

Those Gooks were deadly quiet,
As they snuck in through the wire,
Our perimeter had been over run,
And we were taking fire.

Bunker upon bunker,
Took heavy hits of lead,
The unsuspecting boys on guard,
All had bullets in their head.

A satchel charge exploded,
And knocked me to my knees,
In slow motion I watched the colors,
As time began to freeze.

Blood ran down my face,
And poured out of my ears.
I had to check my legs,
As they were frozen by my fears.

The dead and dying lie all around;
The blood of soldiers soaked the ground.
Not one tree was left to stand.
Life was drained from the land.

My weapon ran out of ammo,
Wounded men cried out for their mothers.
I had to pry another heater from,
The hands of my dead brothers.

I stared a VC right in the eyes.
I had my weapon but he did not.
Those Gooks were made to dehumanize.
He turned to run as I shot.

Enemy brains exploded,
Yet I was dying to retaliate.
I’d still heard the screams of ripping flesh,
And saw bodies they’d mutilate.

We were outnumbered ten to one.
The stench of death filled the night.
Only three men would survive,
That deadly fire fight.

That bloody battle during Tet
Is forever burned upon my brain.
With the images of fallen comrades,
Who fought and died in vain.

We served with honor and we died,
In that strange and beautiful countryside.
The battle now rages from within,
Because we fought a war we couldn’t win.