Ode To the Corpsman

"I want my Mommy.I want my Mommy", I heard the young man cry. That's how I made my living. Watching young men die. The boy had taken a bullet, Right around mid-thigh. It cut through his femoral artery. Soon he'd bleed out dry. I took my index finger. I stuck it in the hole. I tried to make a tourniquet, But I couldn't find a pole. I could feel his lifeblood pulsing. I just couldn't make it stop. As the bullets flew around my head, I could hear the pop,pop,pop. My rifles butt exploded. It had taken a direct hit. I found that I was thanking God. I'd found my tourniquet. I prepared the lad for transport, To take him back to base. When I turned around he was dead. He'd taken three rounds in the face. He was gone, so I moved on, Amidst the constant cry. That's how I made my living, Watching young men die.