BULLETS AND BARBWIRE
We awoke to the crack of rifle fire,
With mortar rounds hitting the ground nearby.
The flying shrapnel was absorbed by sand bags,
Which saved lots of us who wished not to die.
The hot spent shell casings fell to the ground
As the VC charged our fortified hill.
We killed so many the stench made us sick,
While we fought to live and not for a thrill.
Barbwire, bullets, and claymores took their toll
As red and green tracers lit up the sky.
Before long I was the last GI left,
When napalm caused my enemy to fry.
Fleeing the sound of our choppers gunfire
The enemy retreated to the caves and trees.
Then I cried, “thank you” to heaven above,
As I checked out my buddies on my knees.
Somehow I managed to survive the day
Though many I’ve served with names I have read
Carved in the shiny black stone of The Wall
Are my comrades of war, among the dead.
©Copyright by Tom Zart (Date Unknown)