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God,
If your listenin’ The skinny was true and we are
truckin’ our way back to Phubai. The scuttlebutt is that we will fall
back and regroup for a few weeks then head north to Dong Ha. They’re
building an airstrip up that way and we will be setting up and
maintaining the perimeter. I heard that there is some heavy shit going
on up there, seems like Charley don’t want C-130’s landing in the
midst of his stomping grounds. Only time will tell what that place is
all about. Right now I’m gonna catch a few zee’s. Its Gonna be a
long bumpy trip back to the country club. Trouble is my mind keeps
driftin’ back and I keep seeing my brother’s eyes every time I close
mine, God if your listenin’ help me and my brothers get past this,
Please…. A Flag is on fire and lays burning
on the ground while a mob of anti-war types chant,” Hell no we won’t
go. “ draft cards are lit up and waved in the air as though that would
free these freaks from the draft. Jimmy Hendricks wailing guitar rifts
in the background as the anti war movement gains momentum in the streets
of Berkley. Longhaired, barefooted girls toss flowers on the ground with
their spaced out eyes looking like two piss holes in the snow.
Their long limp dresses twirl round about them as they dance and
raise their arms heavenward. Dozens of hairy assed, should be braided
armpits blowing in the wind as if they didn’t have a care in the
fucking world. The bandana wearing, bead clad male hippies are sky high
as they smoke their grass. Standing there thinking their cool as shit
while they pump the peace sign up down and chanting at anyone within
earshot to get out of Vietnam. They talk of flower power and of peace
and love. Yet they display hate and contempt for anyone who is fighting
or who has fought in Vietnam. What
I see is America’s youth fighting against America’s youth, cause
teenagers are fighting and dying in the Nam while teenagers are
protesting and dancing in the streets here. Makes a hell of a lot of
sense don’t it? These shit birds think they are fighting a war over
here in the world using flowers, drugs and words as weapons of peace.
The truth is they wouldn’t amount to a puss filled pimple on a combat
Marines ass. All these hippies are accomplishing is the alienation of
the true American defenders of freedom; keeping those who know the cost
of freedom from the home and peace that they sweat and shed patriotic
blood for. A decorated soldier walks by the
crowd of dancing clowns and they turn their anger towards him and shout
“ Hey baby killer, how many villages did you burn”? “ How many
innocent people did you kill”? And then they spit on the uniform of
one who fought for them and for the freedoms they have. In his mind he reflects back to the
Vietnam highlands where a battle still rages on. Orders were given to
take the hill that would be a strategic foothold for the powers that be.
Bleak would be the only way to describe this place as the smoke from the
battles seared the lungs of those heroes who fought and died for every
inch of ground gained. The hillside he remembers was blood-soaked, with
the dead and wounded everywhere. Resistance was high and the NVA had a
definite will to withstand this assault. The hillside looked like a
charred pile of burnt matchsticks; a visual testimony to the destructive
power of Napalm, which sucks every bit of life out of the ground and
foliage. Not to mention human life, for it is obvious as they fight they
see the enemies twisted charred bodies kiln dried in time as though they
were the statues of Pompeii. He remembers the Anguish upon the
faces and the contorted features of his buddies as they belly crawled
upward covered in mud and blood seeking cover under fire. Machine guns
riddling the dirt as he watched the earth explode upward showering him
and all those in the vicinity. He
remembers the mortars as they came crashing down at steady intervals
leaving only traces of his buddies to the left and right of him as they
were caught in the blast of this hellish nightmare.
His ears echo the sounds of choppers doing flybys sending rockets
screaming through the air and watching Willy-Peter spread itself spider
like in all directions and listening to the screams of those who came in
contact with it. He feels the recoil of his M14
cracking off rounds as inch-by-inch, step-by-step he and his unit
advanced onward and upward into the hell of the battle. The situation
was fucked up beyond all recognition and he had seen this all before. An
eerie and strange recollection of other battles fought and won at the
high cost of life. Hills taken after fighting for days with uncountable
casualties on both sides. Then once the hill was taken it would be
abandoned by the command, only to be taken back again by Charley as a
stronghold. Knowing also that this same hill would have to be retaken
again later at a greater cost of life. Meanwhile the smoke still rises,
the battle still rages and blood still flows this very moment on many
other hills in Vietnam. Seven days ago this soldier was on a
hillside steeped in the fury of war. Today he feels fortunate to be
alive, though guilty because he survived.
He walks upon the streets of America amid the draft dodging scum
of the earth that curse and ridicule the ones who fought and died for
their freedom. His eyes have no reflection and for
these protesters his heart holds no emotion. The Vietnam Veteran undauntedly walks
quietly on by muttering under his breath, “ It don’t mean nutthin ” And his mind drifts back to his
brothers in the Nam. And he says, “God if your listinin’, help me
and my brothers get past this please”…. |