Nancy L. Meek

FRIENDLY FIRE

It was a very scary feeling
to be dropped into the zone,
to watch that bird fly off,
a sinking feeling, left alone;
not knowing if we’d make it back
to live and fight another day;
or die trying to make it home
growing quickly far away.

We were the First Team
to mount the air and ride,
to gallop toward a war
our country soon decried,
as a downed chopper’s rotor
severed our buddy’s head
when he charged up a hill,
his last, for he is dead.

It was the most eerie feeling
to watch that Flying Crane
bear away the bird he flew
as we stood and spoke his name
and offered up a prayer or two
for our bro who lost his face
after prodding a fellow pilot
to let him take his place.

We are the First Cav,
proud that we were there
where brave men fought and died,
who’d go again, because we care
and dearly miss the bros we met,
still virile, young and brave,
still fighting in that country
we weren’t allowed to save.

Author’s Note: The poem was inspired by a story and other info posted on the wonderful and moving website of Keith Bodine, Door Gunner, 1st Cav Division, Vietnam 1966-1967.