David R. “Poppa” Alexander
As we wait patiently for the choppers to come in,
We all prayed that we do this never again.
We moved across the forbidden line
That separated Vietnam from Cambodia; a country that we left behind.
We were told never to speak,
For across the line we did sneak.
We followed the enemy to where they hid,
And to do that we were forbid.
But when your brothers are being hit day after day,
By some means you have to make the enemy pay.
No one would give us permission,
So our Colonel made the decision.
We would go across into the forbidden land,
And engage the enemy sometimes hand to hand.
We had suffered a terrible loss,
And we had paid a horrible cost.
But never again would we sit and wait,
As the brass and politicians argued the missions fate,
While a hand full of our brothers were left alone to be killed
In an unknown compound their destiny to be fulfilled.
This little piece of God’s green earth,
Where the slaughter was to be given birth,
Attacked by enemy guns, tanks and men
And we were told not to go in.
Not to give aid to our comrades and brothers
And this gave every man jack of us to shudder,
We were not to enter this forbidden land,
For our Congress and county men wouldn’t understand.
But we made the trek to this lost compound,
But we were too late to help hold the ground,
Another group of brothers had come to their assistance,
A volunteer group, with funny green hats had assured their existence.
To just make sure that the enemy would always remember,
We burned the enemy compound, and left only a dying ember.
Now we have crossed back across that imaginary line,
And await choppers to pick us up and leave this Cambodia behind.
©Copyright July 27, 2002 by David R. Alexander