Marine Corps experience in Vietnam 1966-67 |
My Sky Here among others, yet alone. Here in a protected enclave, yet vulnerable. Here among friends, yet each of us A stranger with our own thoughts and fears. I sleep and yet am awake Listening for each sound and movement. I awaken unrested to clothe myself in the same Flight suit worn each day. I ingest the same meal with no thought of sameness. I journey the same dirt and gravel road, I exhibit the same smile and humor that Causes my companions to puzzle. I listen to my daily briefing. The good guys here, the bad guys there. Always the same, Always different. I brief the when, where, how and if With the person who will be my friend for the next two hours We apply survival vest, packed with shark chaser, flares And locator beacon. We have our .38 and bandoleer. I hear the silent voice that each time I alone hear. “Is today the day”? I inspect, pull and kick my A4Skyhawk My friend and I each have one, each same, each different. We leap into the sky. I am all business but feel the comfort, Even a sense of well being here in my environment. My sky. We talk to those earth bound. We are directed to those who wish to kill our earth-bound brothers. We need to help them, protect them, save them. We focus on our brother’s enemy and the enemy does focus on us. The sky is set ablaze with colors, lights and explosions And we shoot, bomb and ignite the ground afire . In what seems like hours and yet are only minutes, the colors fade, the lights dim, the explosions quiet. Our brother’s have survived and continue on. We have avoided becoming part of the green landscape. We did not turn to the sea for safety. We have survived one more day And are one day closer to home. We return to our airstrip. We debrief our mission. We head our separate ways. I am now told that another of our Brotherhood Has not survived this day. I count his meager possessions for return to his wife. Our Brother did not emerge from the color, Light and explosions that illuminated His sky. I travel the same road in the back of the same truck. I ingest the same dinner without the thought of sameness. I nurse the same drink Without the relief of drunkenness. I lay on my single bed fashioned over a canvas cot And my mind processes the day. I sleep and yet am awake Listening for each sound and movement. Richard D. Acott Major USMC Chu Lai, Vietnam 1966-67 Acotts@aol.com |