The coming dawn reveals your enemy
Bodies litter the clearing of the "safety" of base-camp
Some tangled in the wire, others in the perimeter
Eyes still dazzled from the fiery flowers of muzzle flash
Ears still ringing from the report
Shoulder bruised from the recoil of your friend
Smell of cordite & death fills your nostrils
But still no rest for you…

Bodies to count and friends to take care of
The sound of the rotors fills the air
As the bags are loaded & the wounded flown off
But you're left behind to kill or be killed
Pinned down in a firefight
As your friends die around you
Call for "arty" as the bullets scream over your head
None available, but help is on the way
Minutes go by, but years have passed
Then the roar of the jets fills your ears and drowns 

the sound of screams only to be
replaced with crackling of the flames and the rich scent of napalm…

Everywhere your enemy but nowhere to be found
And all you want to do is go home
Home where your safe and warm ………aren't you?
But you didn't escape -------
Listen carefully, you can still hear it;
the cry of the jungle…

For my father...Cpl. James A. Mazy, USMC, 2/4 1964-66