Poems of War's Past
THE BEAST
Fifteen men leave the bunker line through the barbed wire, down the slope to the open ground ahead of them. Once across, they enter a land of grand jungle; swollen creeks, mud and rocks, leading upward from the jungle floor. To the rolling hills and the mountains, all covered by trees so thick that the daylight does not find its way to the ground on which they walk. It's easy to think that you're the only person to have ever seen this place. You would be wrong.
This land, with its old temple-lined, jungle-covered roads, trails and waterways, is over-grown by time and neglect. For thousands of years warriors have fought for the riches laying in the mountains; giving their lives, never to return home but to rest in this green jungle hell.
To this day, men still fight for control of this place. Modern armies inhabit this jungle, building camps and bases in an attempt to seize control.
Their patrols bump into one another now and then, fighting battles to the end, for there is no place to hide; no place to run. You either fight to win or fight and die. No prisoners are taken on either side, and in the darkness of the jungle, the beast stirs in silence – its weapons are terror, darkness, fear, depression, lack of hope.
The combatants press forward. An eruption of rifle fire and muzzle flashes from a hundred weapons breaks the silence. Tracers race in all directions through brush and leaves, bouncing off trees and stones, skipping along the ground as friend and foe start to groan; the beast has found us. Friend and foe fight for their lives.
In a deadly embrace, the victims lay. The best and the worst of man lay before my eyes. The beast has won on this violent day and travels on to seek new prey………
And I was left alive!
Fifteen men leave the bunker line through the barbed wire, down the slope to the open ground ahead of them. Once across, they enter a land of grand jungle; swollen creeks, mud and rocks, leading upward from the jungle floor. To the rolling hills and the mountains, all covered by trees so thick that the daylight does not find its way to the ground on which they walk. It's easy to think that you're the only person to have ever seen this place. You would be wrong.
This land, with its old temple-lined, jungle-covered roads, trails and waterways, is over-grown by time and neglect. For thousands of years warriors have fought for the riches laying in the mountains; giving their lives, never to return home but to rest in this green jungle hell.
To this day, men still fight for control of this place. Modern armies inhabit this jungle, building camps and bases in an attempt to seize control.
Their patrols bump into one another now and then, fighting battles to the end, for there is no place to hide; no place to run. You either fight to win or fight and die. No prisoners are taken on either side, and in the darkness of the jungle, the beast stirs in silence – its weapons are terror, darkness, fear, depression, lack of hope.
The combatants press forward. An eruption of rifle fire and muzzle flashes from a hundred weapons breaks the silence. Tracers race in all directions through brush and leaves, bouncing off trees and stones, skipping along the ground as friend and foe start to groan; the beast has found us. Friend and foe fight for their lives.
In a deadly embrace, the victims lay. The best and the worst of man lay before my eyes. The beast has won on this violent day and travels on to seek new prey………
And I was left alive!
Tags & Keywords : Vietnam, War, Poems