MEN DON'T WALK:
Threads of sanity remain in battle;
this is why we survive. It's the insanity that causes us to do what we
have to do. Some call it instinct; I call it the will to live!
WAKE ME, THIS MUST BE A NIGHTMARE!
The roar of their voices is
deafening; they run at us as though they are invincible.
They are not...
Neither are we.
WHO ART IN HEAVEN:
We strain to obey orders,
“Hold your fire!”
100 yards and closing, we must maintain discipline.
75 yards, and there seems to be
WHAT AM I
They have contorted faces, their eyes are glazed. We are Marines; we are in control;
50 yards, “Fire at will!” M14's
explode, full metal jackets launch.
The enemy falls and are trampled by
their own, still advancing, still screaming, their weapons
ablaze. Slow motion, the battle
rages, life's blood absorbs into the ground.
The toll is heavy and bodies are
everywhere, moaning. The cry for help is understandable in all
DIE YOU SUNSABITCHES!
We have taken casualties; even our
wounded continue to fight. We are Marines. The roar has
stopped, the enemy advance has
ceased. We take a casualty count. We have suffered loss.
The dead and wounded are removed to
the rear area. We wait and we listen. Darkness falls
upon us. Silence...
KNOW WHO DIED, DON'T WANNA KNOW
Anxious eyes search the night,
dreading, fearing. Morning has come and we stare in wonder:
The ground was littered with the
enemy, high body count. Nothing is left. Not a trace,
just drag marks, my God!
WHERE ARE THE DEAD?
They were less than 25 yards away.
They have vanished in the night. They had returned for their
dead, yards away! In silence...
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