Bullets and Barbwire

We awoke to the crack of rifle fire, With mortar rounds hitting the ground near by. The flying shrapnel was absorbed by sand bags, Which saved lots of us who wished not to die. The hot spent shell casings fell to the ground As the VC charged our fortified hill. We killed so many the stench made us sick, While we fought to live and not for a thrill. Barbwire, bullets and clay-mores took their toll As red and green tracers lit up the sky. Before long I was the last GI left, When napalm caused my enemy to fry. Fleeing the sound of our choppers gunfire The enemy retreated to the caves and trees. Then I cried, "thank you " to heaven above, As I checked out my buddies on my knees. Somehow I managed to survive the day Though many I've served with names I have read Carved in the shinny black stone of The Wall Are my comrades of war, among the dead.