Hamburger Hill - poem

Woke up and grabbed my piece.
Stormed out the door, a grimace on my face.
Several weeks of ongoing battles, today is the day.
Didn't join up to watch the inside of a room.
Putting up a good fight making heads go boom.
If death is what the man wants, we'll be meeting the quota soon.

Told not to take prisoners.
They just bark or whine.
We tell them to be quiet.
Or shove a grenade down their throat.
Try not to show excitement.
After they explode.

Running up that hill.
Adrenaline running high.
Nerves through the roof.
Shot at by bullets of every size.
Bodies roll to the bottom pit.
Most dead, but a few still alive.

Make it too the top.
And there's nothing to see.
A bombed out crater.
Littered with corpses shred apart like hamburger, no grass, no trees.
Regardless of where I go.
The sight is embedded in my memory.
To this day I can't eat a cheeseburger.
So I'll take a chicken sandwich please.