Monday, January 10, 2011


He wasn't a star athlete.
Didn't distinguish himself in any way.
He was middle of the road.
Graduated from college.
He was 7th Cavalry.
He traded his foot powder.
Got a bottle of scotch.
He smelled death as he disembarked.
The sweet smells of marijuana.
The humid jungle.
His feet suffered jungle rot.
The foot powder went to a short timer.
He knew he got the bad end of the bargain.
He survived the Ia Drang Valley.
Viet Nam.
1800 of his fellow soldiers died.
It was a bloody welcome.
He left his youth on the battlefield.
He became a soldier that day.
Now he is old.
He can't forget.
He lives with guilt.
For surviving so long.
He was a soldier.

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