Tuesday, December 13, 2016


I've had the good fortune to be briefed,
and then debriefed as well, (in the Army, 
that was the fun term for having your 
pants torn off, a sort of first-deployment
to the jungle initiation). A laugh a minute,
those jerks. It was a steamy day too, and
the perimeters of those jungle fields,
though dense and overgrown, were 
watched carefully for Cong. Didn't
want to get caught with your pants
down; know what I mean?
The commanding officer, a curly guy
whose tag read Ogentray, I never liked,
but once I got there he was done in about
a month  - split nearly in half in a mortar
attack. It was the worst feeling in the
world  -  even now  -  knowing that.
As it turned out, one could never really
be too careful, and if you were, the ones
who were  -  the mama's boys, the letter-
writers, the geeks and the crybabies too  -  
they always seemed to get it in the end 
as well, from being overly-cautious, too 
nervous about life itself. Poof! And then
for them, that quick, it was gone.
Goes to show.
'Shell-shock is a state of mind.' That's
what I always wrote on my mail-call
postcards home. 'Dear Mom and Dad,
wish you were here....'

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