Vietnam Memories Poem

The Echo’s…

Incoming! Incoming! ……Bong, Bong, Bong, Bong, Bong, Bong…..
Now hear this, Now hear this…
all hands man your battle stations. All hands man your battle stations.

…..Those time lingering echo’s that won’t be still.

The sounds of running boots on metal decks,
The squeal of hands sliding down ladders,
The canons and guns spewing hot lead
The young voices shouting tactical commands.

I see a blur of surreal visions of old TV movies
Sailors scrambling to their stations
The ships wake curving toward the shore
The sea splashing across the deck
Clouds of gun smoke
The fountains of water bursting up from all directions

I smell the powder
It overwhelms the fresh sea air
Yet the smells mostly come later
When the guns go silent

When the air smells fresh again
When the adrenalin stops pumping
The world returns
The old TV movies stop playing in your head

You smell the sweat that drips from every pore
You smell brass
But mostly you smell the fear.

It waited
You were busy
You performed your duties by the book
Now it’s here.
You can smell it now.
And like an echo, the memories will keep returning

Jim P.