Terry D. Sutherland


“Ahimsa”, he said, with utter disgust
As he walked through the carnage and blood
The irony challenged his patriotic trust
And his tears came rushing in a flood

Under his breath he muttered, “I quit”
“I just can’t do this again”
Then he mustered his strength and gathered his wit
And fell into line with his friends

Another day of the three hundred and some
They walked the hot jungle floor
When they’re eighteen and have to carry a gun
Doing the best that they can in a war

How many times had they threatened to quit?
How many times had they already fought?
All in a day of an infantry outfit
Walking a jungle so steamy and hot