Independence celebration-thoughts

 

And---the rockets red-glare…

Conscripted fresh out of college, wondering if that “sheepskin” might ever even approach the “promised”-asset concluded by four long-years of intense study and a tandem dump-truck of hard-earned “greenback”-money (his own and his parents), they snatched the boy from civilian-life one very fine afternoon, put him in an itchy wool-uniform, tore down any semblance of his prized and proud Independent-Individual tenets, taught him to salute, say “Yes! Sir!” to any, and, all, superior-unctions, to cadence-march. They put a rifle in his hands, instructed him on how-to-shoot. Finally, someone sewed a single-stripe on his shoulder, threw him on a transport plane, dumped his sorry-ass in some distant, foreign jungle, desert or island and said “Do your duty! Son!” Oh! Yeah!---And…”Good luck!” They forgot to verbally announce---“You’ll need it!”

And---Why!?...the irritating-thought terrorized his “innocent”-mind.

One day? Maybe? He might correctly conclude that some fat-ass “Royal-elite” took insult (either real or perceived) at the cruel words of some other “idiot” flying a different color and configured “impressive”-flag somewhere---Apology-demanded! Apology-denied!...War!

---All the king’s horses and all the king’s men…

Flying-bullets without “sense” or direction, not caring where their havoc reigned destruction, brought a quick-enough second stripe followed within months by a third. Sergeant! Impressive.

His platoon on patrol with a dozen “boys” under his command, they obeyed the orders sent down by the “high-command” to “search & destroy” the “enemy”, a bunch of rag-tag yet highly-trained forces opposed to the “whatever” the Good-guys “geniuses” held important. Just can’t seem to get along without a bunch of “mumbo-jumbo” nonsense speeches by the “high and mighty!? The high-command rear echelon lived in air-conditioned comfort  up to their elbows in sweet-smelling blondes and cases of imported booze cooled by “ice”. Ah! The good-life! War!

The intellectual-idiocy of the “Royal-elites” had already fought “two” wars-to-end-all-wars!? Hmm!? Well!? Maybe? Uh!---er…this time!? Yeah! Sure! Can’t the computer-wiz do it right!?

Ours is not to reason Why? Ours is just to do---and…die!

A cold, midnight rain had stopped some few hours earlier; usually, after an intense downpour, the voracious “mutant”-mosquitoes would feast on any exposed skin of the human-species, but, it seemed the scuttlebutt was right about this “knowledge”---the flying demons did not fly higher than about eight-feet above the ground. It was lonely and more than a bit eerie in his 30-foot tower at one corner of the “Secure”-compound; sure would feel good to steal a little “shut-eye”.

An alabaster-pale full moon sneaked between skittering-black clouds; his mind drifted.

In the soft-moon offering nearly enough light to see the features of the pretty girl in the photo, he gazed at the image of  Katy Lynn, safely back home. Silently, he cursed. Home!? Humph!

He roughly fingered the letter kept with the picture; anger flooded his tortured-mind.

Dear “John”! I met somebody new---and…

Rain droplets dislodged from a tree’s leaves brought him back to the business at hand; somebody had errantly bumped a sapling causing the clinging droplets to rain to the ground. He remembered the tell-tale hint of movement from his squirrel-hunting days. He listened intently.

---the bombs bursting in air…

As he reached for the walky-talky to notify the CP, a cacophony of earth-shattering explosions shook his perch; luminescent mortar-fired floating-flares eerily lighted the night sky.

A raucous-scream of thousands of black-clad enemy soldiers shattered the night’s vigil.

Among the ants attacking, he spotted one soldier aiming his weapon tipped with a rocket-propelled-grenade directly at his position. He could have fired---instead…he stared at the photo!

When Johnny comes marching home again. Hoorah! Hoorah!...

Door Gunner

 

 

Cacophonous roar of whirring rotor blades over my head

Drowned out by my fire-breathing thunderous gun of dread

 

Red clay broiling-earth explodes in fifty-caliber-death onslaught

How many hearts and minds have young soldiers’ demise bought?

 

All innocent lives lost could never be counted

Fat-cats got richer as the blood dollars mounted

 

Myriad freedom-flights over the hot red brick oven

Our armored machines rained hellfire from above ’em

 

Crimson mud splatters from a gunner’s bullets flying

Young lives wasted while pernicious-politicos kept lying

 

Away from all war, at home I’d much rather be

Any duty performed, prolongs this hated insanity

 

My heart tears asunder as black body bags pile near

A nobody claims fame from innocent blood spilled here

 

When the game is called by politicians most rotten

The bravest of the courageous are quickly forgotten

 

They donned the uniform and didn’t complain

A hero unnoticed lives in his spirit-soul’s pain

 

Salve national guilt with a cold granite black wall

Names etched in blood recalls “Honor” stands tall