Endless Days and Nights

Endless days and nights

surviving jungle fights.

Boys trying to be men

hearts whispering amen.

The ever constant beat

of low flying choppers.

All too often trailed

by Agent Orange mists

The ever present smell

of pungent diesel fuel.

That ever annoying growl

of emergency generators.

Day and night a damp smell

trying not to stay in hell.

Back from patrols covered in blood

mixed and caked in evil mud.

Gathered together around a fire

some in ripped and torn attire.

Amongst them there stood

upended rifles topped with helmets.

Some were silent and some cried

for their comrades who had died.

As more beers were downed

they stared blankly at the ground.

Shared times good and bad

now over ridden and sad.

Each reflecting on the next day

will they survive in some way.

Survivors guilt is so real

it’s hard to learn how to deal.

Some nights the sky lights up

star-shells exploding and abrupt.

Illuminated by the drifting parachutes

soldiers scramble for their rifles.

So many muzzle flashes

it looks like fireflies.

Intermittent streaks trail

from tracer rounds.

Fueling future nightmares

now familiar war sounds.

Terrorized calls for Corpsmen and Medics

mostly shadowed by screams of pain.

The next night comes

the gathering smaller

Replaced again by new

upended rifles topped with helmets.

Throughout day and night

hoping no children to sight.

So many are seriously thin

to be that hungry a sin.

We can’t allow them too close

they sometimes have a grenade.

They would approach in

a tiny wooden bowl boat.

Leaving you to wonder

how can that even float.

Even when a rifle was pointed

they would smile and wave.

So little we knew

when we signed our names.

Who was the maniac

who coined, “War Games”?

Endless days and nights

surviving jungle fights.

Boys trying to be men

hearts whispering amen

Gary R. Cramer

March 11, 2022