A Chosen Few, The Herd"

Only a chosen few of my generation could
Understand why the skeleton in my closet
Rattles in my deepest sleep.

It's late now, And my eyes are growing
Tiresome, Soon my soul and dreams will
Return to a land of a thousand battlefields
And a million tears. 0nly a few of us can
Relate to the sound of incoming rounds or a
Medevac chopper taking off leaving a trail
Of blood in it's wake.

Many years have past since I first heard
Him. The rattles were low and distant first,
But as time past it became apparent he
Wanted out and at this time in my life I have
Become tired. Tired of fighting him and
The morality or immorality of it all.
What was the meaning and the significance to it ?
Could he give me the answers to my questions ?
Would he comprehend my desolate frightened rage
Or would he condemn me for my belief in denying
His existence for so long.

There's a crack in the closet door now and it's
Almost daylight. Soon my soul and dreams will
Return from yet another mission. What was it
This time? An assault on some forgotten hill,
An Ambush, or just an eagle flight to a nightmare
In war zone "D" How many did we kill this time
Or how many times did we die? The answers
To all my questions will have to wait until
I have awaken.

Who are you to judge us, for you have not
Followed our trail, walked the point at night
Or heard the fire, Hell and screams of a single
Night. For we are the chosen few of "The Herd"
Who have touched the gates of Hell, seen the shadow
Of death and at times, are damned for surviving...

by PFC A.M.Eyster, Co B 1/503rd, 173rd Abn