Dead or Alive, Hill 175?

Dead or Alive, Hill 175

How did I get here? How stupid am I?
I wondered as I heard my buddies cry
Out in the highlands, in Vietnam
The wounded scream "morphine!". Others sob "Mom!"

Sure as hell I'm out here to die
Too late to question when or why.
Men who don't know me, trying to kill me
Won't later question, "Who the hell was he?"

The crushing noise of bullets and mortar
Suffocate efforts at thought, at order.
My sad life depends on the fetal position
Screw the Marines and this friggin' mission.

I'm tempted to stand, to run, to flee
So there will be something left of me
Tomorrow and for all the promised tomorrows to come.
God, why am I here? Why was I so dumb?

An arm's blown beside me, I recoil in more horror.
I age by the moment, don't pass me a mirror
To see the new killer now quaking in shock.
Christ Almighty, please turn back the clock.

JFK and now Lyndon, what in the name of hell were you thinkin'?
Friends' bodies surround me, now what will my fate be?
At Hill 175, Doc Toe, still alive?
The finger to all politicians, don't give us more jive.

Just bring us to families, anxiously waiting
For this war to end, no more anger, no hating.
But war won't end soon and skies won't be sunny.
No, the fat cats stay rich, making more dirty money.

And screw
Them too.

Story ID:	659
Written by:	jim rambo (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Doc Toe Vietnam
Year:	1967
Person:	Infantryman