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Ode to the P-38 (poem)

By Dayl Wise

No, not the P-38 Lightning - Air Craft, nor German semi-automatic pistol. You're a field ration can opener, Officially: Opener "comma", Can "comma", Hand "comma", Folding "comma", Type I.

You're were small and light to carry,
Hinged, nickel-plated, hardened steel,
cheap, petite, 1-1/2 inches long.

You adorned my dog tag chain,
like a ring, my steady.
Around the block a few times,
WWII, Korea. With me...Vietnam.

Environmentally friendly,
light weight,
you're human-powered,
no batteries for you.

Opened C-rations, bottles,
stripped wire, cleaned boots,
fingernails, a great marking tool.
Once scaled a fish. Do you remember?

We parted that fall night, 24th Evac Hospital,
my last vision of you, around my neck.
Resting on my dog tags,
never saw you again.

I think of you often my love,
but we both knew it was temporary.
Heard about your retirement,
with the adoption of MRE's.

Thank you for everything,
for penetrating all those C-Rats.
Never been able to bring myself
to buy an electric can opener.