Colin F. Jones

MEN OF FLESH

Bien Hoa retired in smoke beyond our bunds
Where from Chinooks flew in to feed our guns
With slings of steel bound fodder underslung
‘Mid flaring dust and noise and shattered voice
And some were waiting to do their murder
Some for promotion would do their best
For those afraid it would be harder
For some ‘twould be a manly test
Some would score the goals; the heroes!
Made famous from their comrades pass
Great accolades to hide their zeros,
For circumstance divides the class
Yes! All the dust and shit was flying!
And in it men of flesh were dying