The jungle mountains were cold in those early days of
November, in the year of Nineteen-Sixty-five.
Slowly at first, just a muddy drop here and there,
then came the monsoon deluge of which
suddenly bore out of the Chine Sea like
an ugle nightmare.
Jungle everywhere and the sounds of war
accompanied by dim flashes from cannons afar.
Alone on your post, accompanied only by fear,
dread, anxiety, lonelness and horrer.
Your mind races with thoughts of home, family and friends
and the great life you left behind, but suddly a glowing pop
flare lights up the dark monsoon night as reality quickly returns.
The tall, wet, Elephant grass sways from movment with in.
You instantly take a kneeling position and draw your weapon to
your shoulder, flip the safety off and try to hold your breath,
your heart races, as you wait for the devil himself to appear.
You listen with all your being as time ticks away and the sounds
coming from the elephant grass, slowly fades away!
You take a deeep breath and silently thank God, that you will
live to see another day.
You think, how many more near misses can I bear?
Jackie R. Kays