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Recollections

By VVAW

(The following recollection is form a collection of writings given to VVAW several years ago, all signed "The Last Grunt"; we have no other name, but if the writer reads his story we'll be glad to print his name the next time around.)

AMBUSH-ARMORED COLUMN

The armored column rolls by through the highland paddies, across old battlefields, through the dismal rain of I Corps. On it rolls, unstoppable, toward an utter hell. The 50's and 6's are loaded to the hilt, and the tanks' cannon are bent on raising hell.

Then the lead track passes over a command detonated 250 lb bomb, and then the next, and then an explosion like the wrath of God must be; white hot steel expands skyward carrying pieces of men with it. The track driver arcs puward 50,100, 150 feet into the air and his body shatters into a million pieces like some kind of frail china doll. The company RTO is hit with a 3-inch piece of steel, and the '50's begin. My god, the noise-my God, an orchestra from the pit of hell. 102 mm guns fire, '50's fire, '60's fire, claymores detonate, frags explode—the world must be ending. The noise, and the grunt struggles in the mud as the shells explode and the world becomes a white hot flame and a belly-level view is all he can see crasling in the mud and firing his puny '16 and on and on the fire goes burst after burst, explosion after explosion and then silence and count the dead.

—The last grunt

SURVIVOR'S MANUAL

If your arms and legs
Are still intact
You are a survivor
If your nightmares
Will wait for the night
You are a survivor
If the faces of passing children
Remain the faces of passing children,
You are a survivor
If tall meadow grasses
Delight you with sudden phesants
You are a survivor
If you can find your way back into someone's love
You are a survivor.

FLASHBACKING

"..stare upon the ash of all I burned."

—Wilfred Owen—

Suddenly
The ash catches,
Bursting into
betel mouth mama sans,
Licking at
That open sore
In my head
Nibbling at
The scars
Of what I was:
Their searing tongues
Searching for the wound
That would ignite
What I still
Might be.

"SEMPER PARATUS: TO THE CLASS OF '81"

If they got you
Thinking about signing up
Just to kill you
Some time
(since nothing else is going down)
You better be
Getting ready to kill you
Some women and children too
Preparing
To spend you
Some time
Doing time
Doing some long time
Locked up
In their screams.

AGENT ORANGE

I harvested the bitter fruit
From the Quang Ngai Valley
And I shall carry it
Until the day of my death.
I felt the feathery mist,
But I had no fear.
My trust, and my ignorance,
Shielded me from it.
Now I walk the safe streets,
Seemingly normal.
I should find a place to hide,
But is there such a place?
Am I a bug, an insect,
Wiped out by 20th century technology?
I cannot act,
So I think the unthinkable.

Dale Reich
Whitewater, Wis

THE DOW LEGACY

The seed
That your malicious
Wizardry
Planted in me
On the banks
Of the Bong Son river
May now be bearing
Fruit
In my own children:
Innocent passengers
On your agent orange special
Heavy
With your brainchild festering
In their genes.

FLASH BACK
Kay Richardson
Peoria, IL

Flash back
Brain bolt Striking
Shock moment lightening
Flash Back
A long ago where I spent
In black memory moment
Flash Back
Time-Machine inside me
Ancient images I see
Flash Back
Prisoned time
In yesterday I find
Flash Back
Crying pain
Memorial rain
Flash Back

PROMETHEUS AGAIN

He once brought
Fire
Down
On some village
Children
In that latest
Crazy forgotten
War of ours now
He's come home
To spend
His days
Asleep
Beneath
Newspapers
Of inconsequence
And
His nights
Chained
To our
Garbage cans
Drunk on
Ripple
Muscatel
Thunderbird
Retching our guts up
In to
The relentless
Dawn.

TIN CLOTH MEDALS, 1981

Got a letter
While ago
'bout a
Tin cloth
Medal
I'd
Been awarded
4 my time
In nam
Sent all
The "others"
2 Nixon
In 71
Got me
2 thnking
Ha!Kinda
Like
Boy scouts again!
Tin cloth
Medals
Don't mean
A job 4 me
Don't mean
An end
2 mi
Agent orange
Miseries
Don't mean
Quality V.A.
Healthcare
Tin cloth medals
R good 2 throw
At
Those
Who told us
All the lies
Whose who
Stabbed us
In the back
Tin cloth
Medals
R
bureau quacks
Mentalities
"Dewey Canyon IV
Here I come"

R. Koenig
Madison, WI