David R. “Poppa” Alexander

WHAT WAS IT LIKE IN THE WAR, DADDY?

Hot, thirsty, dirty and scared
Those that were not scared were impaired
What is this place I have been sent?
Hell? No just Vietnam.

Mile after mile of endless patrols
Searching for an enemy that we hope we don’t find their holes.
No shelter, no fresh water and C’s if we can get them.
Hell? No just Vietnam.

Jungle, wait-a-minute briars, bugs each playing a roll
Each taking their toll,
Leeches as big as a long pencil and jet black
Hell? No just Vietnam.

Wet feet, unknown rashes, death traps
Red ants the size of roaches perhaps
Snakes, sure – name one they are probably here
Hell? No just Vietnam.

Tired aching back, filth everywhere, why are we taking this path?
Three weeks sense I had anything called a bath
Water from a polluted stream and quinine tables added
Hell? No just Vietnam.

No rest, no sleep, no end in sight
Charlie hitting us when he is most unexpected, maybe tonight.
Another brother down and more miles to go:
Hell? No just Vietnam.

Wounded, bleeding and dying in this mud
Not enough dry bandages to stop the blood
Slowly bleeding to death
Hell? No Vietnam.

Trying to get out of this jungle darkness
Maybe a chopper to carry us to a better medical access
Not a chance from in here
Hell? No Vietnam.

Carrying out the wounded and the dead
No one to be left behind, carry them with us instead
Only we find no help in site
Hell? No Vietnam.

Think I’ll just lie down and sleep
Not for long just a few minutes let me creep
Can’t do that, Charlie is all around
Hell? No Vietnam.

So it goes day after day and not a sound
We are just grunts on the ground
Will we ever find rest and peace?
Hell no, this is Vietnam.