Short Timers' Serenade
Sing that sweet song, humm that happy tune
Rock me to sleep with that soothing lullaby of sweet rotation orders
I got to twenty-nine days and a wake up,
I can finally think about that big bird taking me back to the world
No more working parties, those are for the newbies in country
No more patrols, no more guard duty, been there, done that
Twenty-eight, twenty-seven, nineteen, then fourteen
Finally I'm a one digit midget, can't see over my boot tops
Now it is really starting to sink in that I'm going home
What the hell is going on? Why am I so sad?
This shouldn't be happening, I never planned it this way.
I don't want to go and that doesn't make any sense
Then I finally realize why I'm feeling this way
My friends, my brothers, my fellow Marines
I never expected they would ever mean this much to me
by Contributing Poet Thomas G. Calabrese Copyright © 2016
VWP 2016 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
A Day in the Life
My platoon landed by chopper on Hill 327
A barren hill with nothing but shattered trees from artillery strikes
Our mission was to turn dirt and rock into our home
Such is the life of the Marine Corps Grunt
Take that e-tool, fill those sandbags, stack them high
Wipe that sweat, guzzle that water and keep going
Filling, stacking, digging, it is the circle that never ends
Such is the life of the Marine Corps grunt
Walk that patrol three clicks to the north then two clicks to west
Always searching for the elusive Victor Charlie
Then back to Hill 327, grab some c-rations, catch some zzzzzz's
Wake up and start all over again
Such is the life of the Marine Corps Grunt
A sniper round hits a Marine and the rest of us dive for cover
A corpsman arrives out of nowhere and the rest of us get back to work
First Squad heads out to find the sniper who is long gone by now
Everybody knows he is long gone, but they go anyway
Such is the life of the Marine Corps grunt.
When the camp is finally built, the word comes down
Tear it apart and get ready to move out
Farewell to nothing, hating to leave, hating to stay
Such is the life of the Marine Corps grunt
by Contributing Poet Thomas G. Calabrese Copyright © 2016
VWP 2016 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Hill 1192
We climbed that muddy trail in the middle of monsoon season
It was slippery and two steps forward and one step back
I had given up a while ago trying to find rhyme or reason
I was carrying an M-60 with a poncho over a loaded pack
It was times like this when fatigue and frustration got the best of me
I was tired of all the clichés concerning freedom and liberty
And how the most dangerous weapon in the world is a Marine & his rifle
That works better in a recruiting poster than out in the field
Right now I didn’t feel dangerous or patriotic, I just felt beaten down
One step in front of the other, I see nothing but the backside of the Marine before me
Where is Victor Charlie, I'm tired of chasing him & going around & around.
I can't give up; I can’t be the weak link in this chain. I can't fail my fellow Marines
So I find the strength to take one more step, always one more step,
One more hill, one more rice paddy, one more patrol, one more day
When there is no more one mores, I hope that means I'm still alive.
by Contributing Poet Thomas G. Calabrese Copyright © 2016
VWP 2016 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Sing that sweet song, humm that happy tune
Rock me to sleep with that soothing lullaby of sweet rotation orders
I got to twenty-nine days and a wake up,
I can finally think about that big bird taking me back to the world
No more working parties, those are for the newbies in country
No more patrols, no more guard duty, been there, done that
Twenty-eight, twenty-seven, nineteen, then fourteen
Finally I'm a one digit midget, can't see over my boot tops
Now it is really starting to sink in that I'm going home
What the hell is going on? Why am I so sad?
This shouldn't be happening, I never planned it this way.
I don't want to go and that doesn't make any sense
Then I finally realize why I'm feeling this way
My friends, my brothers, my fellow Marines
I never expected they would ever mean this much to me
by Contributing Poet Thomas G. Calabrese Copyright © 2016
VWP 2016 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
A Day in the Life
My platoon landed by chopper on Hill 327
A barren hill with nothing but shattered trees from artillery strikes
Our mission was to turn dirt and rock into our home
Such is the life of the Marine Corps Grunt
Take that e-tool, fill those sandbags, stack them high
Wipe that sweat, guzzle that water and keep going
Filling, stacking, digging, it is the circle that never ends
Such is the life of the Marine Corps grunt
Walk that patrol three clicks to the north then two clicks to west
Always searching for the elusive Victor Charlie
Then back to Hill 327, grab some c-rations, catch some zzzzzz's
Wake up and start all over again
Such is the life of the Marine Corps Grunt
A sniper round hits a Marine and the rest of us dive for cover
A corpsman arrives out of nowhere and the rest of us get back to work
First Squad heads out to find the sniper who is long gone by now
Everybody knows he is long gone, but they go anyway
Such is the life of the Marine Corps grunt.
When the camp is finally built, the word comes down
Tear it apart and get ready to move out
Farewell to nothing, hating to leave, hating to stay
Such is the life of the Marine Corps grunt
by Contributing Poet Thomas G. Calabrese Copyright © 2016
VWP 2016 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Hill 1192
We climbed that muddy trail in the middle of monsoon season
It was slippery and two steps forward and one step back
I had given up a while ago trying to find rhyme or reason
I was carrying an M-60 with a poncho over a loaded pack
It was times like this when fatigue and frustration got the best of me
I was tired of all the clichés concerning freedom and liberty
And how the most dangerous weapon in the world is a Marine & his rifle
That works better in a recruiting poster than out in the field
Right now I didn’t feel dangerous or patriotic, I just felt beaten down
One step in front of the other, I see nothing but the backside of the Marine before me
Where is Victor Charlie, I'm tired of chasing him & going around & around.
I can't give up; I can’t be the weak link in this chain. I can't fail my fellow Marines
So I find the strength to take one more step, always one more step,
One more hill, one more rice paddy, one more patrol, one more day
When there is no more one mores, I hope that means I'm still alive.
by Contributing Poet Thomas G. Calabrese Copyright © 2016
VWP 2016 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Bio: Thomas G. Calabrese is a Vietnam Veteran, 1969-1970.
He served in the United States Marine Corps:
Military Occupational Specialty 0351 Weapons.
He is a member of the Veteran Writing Group of North County in California.
He served in the United States Marine Corps:
Military Occupational Specialty 0351 Weapons.
He is a member of the Veteran Writing Group of North County in California.
Except where otherwise attributed, all pages & content herein
Copyright © 2014 - 2025 Paul Hellweg VietnamWarPoetry.com All rights reserved
Westerly, Rhode Island, USA