The New Guy

“Welcome to ‘Nam,” the sergeant said,

“You mess up here Newby you’ll go home dead.”

Get used to the smell, it lasts all year,

The odor lingers as does your fear.

You look at the map wondering where you will go,

You B.S. with your buddies, the move-out goes slow.

The short timers party as they prepare to fly home,

For the first time in country you feel alone.

You wonder what the future holds in store,

As you learn the realities of this tragic war.

The Vets look at you with sarcastic grins,

You only desire is for your tour to begin.

Your belief in God will keep you strong,

You pray at night that you do no wrong.

Orders are in, you move out to the front,

You’re the American Dream, a combat grunt.

You meet your new family, a strange sort of breed,

A mixture of races, religions and creeds.

They pull their weight; you pull your own,

You’re part of a team, no longer alone.

Michael D. Monfrooe

1986