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MY LAI 16 MAR 68

By Horace Coleman

With apologies to the Beatles:

It was 30 years ago one day,

when the "band" began to play . . . .

MY LAI

16 MAR 68

We lied and they died.

In a ditch of a tomb

carved from gloom and

burnished with brutality.

In a reality, uber alles,

of military follies.

Four hours of chattering

guns and metal teeth

scattering Mais and flowers.

Shattering the blind, crippled,

crazy, fat, skinny or lazy.

Eight (or less) to eighty, we didn't mind.

Though it isn't kind to remind.

Just patriots doing our best

to lay "enemy" souls to rest.

Like Wounded Knee, you see.

Or, Ft. Pillow where willows wept.

We've done it before-

and will some more.

We did our duty of kicking bootie.

The village called Pinkville

is Nowheres and NoThinkville.

One of those places "victory" was

splattered on our faces.

Dead or alive, gooks don't matter.

The "specialist," corporal,

sergeant, lieutenant, captain,

major and colonel Calleys

never hide in alleys.

So, we say with pride:

"Hooray for our side!"

- Horace Coleman