Colin F. Jones


It clings to them who see no foe,
Who cannot join those who go,
To fight the battle one on one,
Their dread and fear to overcome.
He is always waiting; anxious, and,
He is oft aware of his shaking hand,
He is sick inside from the fear of fear
That never leaves him; always near.
And when the action closes in,
and he sees the tracers, hears the din
He cringes from his own despair,
And the horror that he cannot share,
For he has not learned yet how to die,
And he will forever be asking why.

Author’s Note: Pogo is the term that we Australians in Vietnam called those who were not Combat Troops and who remained behind when we went on operations