The platoon was stuck deep in the bush..scorpions crawling-
Wasps overhead buzzing..the many stung started falling-
Smoke spiraled between soldiers..we advanced through the harsh-
Private Ross caught a stinger..his bowels lingered in the marsh-
The mission..to secure a field then listen for relief-
Our position..about 1 mile shy of a field known as 'Grief'-
We forged ahead dodging mines..flies whizzing by our ears-
Cries of fear..shots around us dried our many tears-
Then, we stumbled upon a child..with a gun, and a stone-
For a heart..when he cocked, Private Brock sent him home-
Cold, we picked up the pace..rippin' and slashin' through the jungle-
Tossin' grenades to clear space..everything was like a jumble-
A blur of reality..we were half-way to our destination-
And half the squad was wasted..so there was much hesitation-
But, we had to blaze a trail for the 2nd company.."Come with me"-
I hollered to the men in front of me.."Don't stop dumpin' heat!"-
The odor was fetid like dead skin..wet grass and sanitation-
As we ascended to the field..the enemy's hand was awaitin'-
About 50 men sprayin'..shells clipped we fell like dominoes-
They held me until my rescue..now I'm tellin' all I know-