Under My Helmet

March 12, 2012
I’m too afraid to look
Over the red tainted mud walls that we have built.
It has been pouring rain and ammunition all day,
All last night, and the day before.
Cat-sized corpse rats, decaying fingers, and rotting legs cover the ground.
Every move I make, my swelled feet ache
And my body feels like it is going to collapse.
Necco wafers and these stale crackers are starting to taste
Like prime rib.
My cot, for the hour I was in it,
Felt like I was in my blankets back home.

I cannot let my brothers see me sweat.
To them I am a rock wall, never going to break.
But under my helmet,
I feel like I’ll end up
As another name etched on some memorial.

I am cold, emotionless,
Fighting fear that I will lose another
Friend, or family member.
In fear that I have to kill another
Jerry, or that he will get to me first.

You don’t know what it’s like,
To see life being shot out of a man
Who you once or never knew.
Then having to carry him
To face his peers, in a pile, in the mud.

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