The Return

Soldier with your quiet eyes and forward stare
Awaken from your thoughts of gentler fare
Her lover’s breath is now the draught of rotor blades
The odour of men instead the perfume of her hair.

The sky of her eyes is turning to night’s black
Metal is the cool skin that now presses your back
So, let thoughts of her loose and reality take
As the chopper lifts from the melting tarmac.

Above black-green jungle and Orange wasted forest
Over drowned paddy rice and bone-weary beast
You journey to a firebase where daylight fades
Into the dusk of night that allows no rest.

Descending, the chopper hovers in a watery field
Impatient to return to its airy shield
Through the open door you see a lone figure beckon
The pilot thumbs up; your return now sealed.

Drawn to the waiting figure as if to his trap
Fingered circles are traced on your unmarked map
Words are mimed against the din of blades
For his escape, your return is the final lap.

You wade knee-high mud to reach firmer shore
Where other young men and four beasts of war
Greet your return with the lament of all
Of days to go until they will return no more.

 

Frank Meredith

 

FILE PHOTO: One of thousands of photos taken by Billy Cunneen in Vietnam – 1966, a US Army Iroquois takes off, after dropping off soldiers from 6RAR for a patrol.

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