Essay On Drums

ESSAY ON DRUMS The drum sounds slowly its cadence the beat, beat, beat marks a march and through the air reverberates. The tramp of a company at quick time, arms pumping with machine precision, a rigid jerky movement of elbows. The thump of rotating Huey blades as they back stroke the air; gingerly alighting on a hot LZ. The staccato stutter of rifle fire indiscriminately searching the earth laughingly playing hard games of tag. The grieving hearts at graveside waiting the echoing bugle call while the flag is ritually folded. Sound slowly this cadence for the eons of history the drums of war reverberate.