My journey into Viet Nam 1965/66
USS Lenawee to shore of Da Nang
Disneyland of military & civilians.
First night a perimeter foxhole
War stories/advice from departing survivors.
Second night, alone realizing it’s our turn
Someone is going to attack intent to kill us.
Day patrol, ambushed, rifle fire and clamores
Our leaders, our heroes lay dead in the darkness.
Lifted by helicopters, fought near the sea, in the valleys,
Mountains, jungles and a desert area.
Fifty years later—recall, floating memories.
A handful of young enemy soldiers
Lie silently in their death.
Remove their weapons:
Healthy, handsome, beautiful men.
Speechless lips, eyes blank, faces without life
Lying still on their soil. No expression.
My dead friends and these dead enemy soldiers
should today be enjoying good times together.
The Peace Corps would have been a greater good
Working, playing cards and partying together.
War is not the answer. Love is.
Giving a war chant and a weapon.
Without logic giving an enemy.
Reality was death and destruction.
Today we have graves, disabled, and PTSD.
Artist Statement
This poem was submitted posthumously by longtime friend Mike P. Ferrick (also published in this issue). Don Rajotte passed away April 1, 2018 but served with Ferrick in the US Marine Corps, Mike Company 3rd Battalion 9th Marines in Viet Nam.
Competing Interests
The author has no competing interests to declare.