Early morning haze, humid and damp:

Any move or noise could be heard for what

seems like miles.

Clothing damp from the night’s dew.

An eerie stillness settles in and those

awake can feel the danger.

Slowly the sunlight creeps in and the

dampness is still around.

There isn’t a noise; strange, no noises

from the jungle.

Not a bird nor animal can be heard.

Because of the dense foliage and

canopy, at noon little light will be seen.

Most are now waking up and their

combat experiences make them be still.

With eyes wide and ears alert all are

strangely on edge.

We haven’t seen the enemy in over three

days, a time that feels like an eternity after

being in the boonies for so long.

How uncomfortable we are.

Hungry, damp, our skins feel sticky

from the dew and humidity.

Knowing that you can’t keep a round

 in the chamber of your M-16 overnight;

the round will swell and your rifle will

fire only one time, as the round won’t eject.

Tense, weary and tired, but we must be oh,

so careful now.

All are combat veterans of at least a month.

You learn fast here or you die.

You try not to let your mind wander as you

sit and wait for the unknown.

Your mind plays tricks on you:

Was that a sound? A stick break, or

just a ghost noise?

The longer we wait, the worse it gets.

How can one explain the anguish of the

mind here in this jungle?

Over an hour now and still nothing...

Every last man knows that there is

something, or someone out there.

Putting one's finger on the feeling isn’t

so easy; just by experience do we know.

We must move, can’t live out your life

sitting in a jungle afraid, yes, afraid.

Again, slowly we gather our things and

crawl toward better cover.

As we move a round is chambered in

each rifle.

Whew, we make it to the dense underbrush

where there are several fallen trees.

Still no noise, no sounds from the jungle.

Maybe we are all just tired and over-cautious.

Maybe we are just combat weary and in a while we can laugh about our fears.

Maybe, but not today; a sudden crack of

an AK-47, a noise you can’t mistake.

And we are engaged with the enemy we

knew was there but couldn’t see.

The uncomfortable climate, the sticky skin,

the damp humidity are forgotten.

A bullet hitting a log throwing splinters in

your eyes will make you forget.

We all are engaged, we all are fighting, we

all are thinking of one thing:

Kill the enemy before he kills you.

No longer are we hungry, no longer are

we tired, no longer are we afraid.

We just don’t have the luxury of fear,

hunger, or being exhausted.

We once again have chosen wisely and

our vantage point has served us well.

For once no deaths, no injuries, but there

are casualties, but they are in our minds.

As fast as it started it is over.

We have learned long ago not to chase

Charlie in his own backyard.

We gather our things and slowly, cautiously

move out and find a place to rest and eat.

That is the life of an Infantry Soldier in

Viet Nam.

No glory, no glamour, no hero, no romance.

No rest, no hot meal, no time to reflect.

Maybe, if lucky, a can of Cs and a cigarette.

A moment to thank God for your protection,

a thought of home and then moving again.

No cost you say, no cost?

Maybe not then, maybe not while in combat.

Then, again, maybe we were too stupid to

know.

But the cost comes later when you are

safe, free, and if lucky, you are home.

The Cost?  How about years of sleepless

nights?

How about the cost of losing your wife  because she just can't put up with you any more?

How about the cost of one’s own sanity?

No, there was no cost, I guess, but don’t ask a

wife, mother, or father about the cost.

©David R. Alexander