Good Morning Viet Nam

By F.P. Siedentopf

The morning star is shining bright,

And the world seems quite at rest.

Yet last night in darkness

The war spread from its nest.

The fireflies were tracers,

There was the crump of 81’s,

An oath cut short with screaming

“Come get me you fucking sons…”

I did what plans had called for

Shooting at a patch of ground,

Just in case the enemy

Would come that way around.

When suddenly I heard the crack

Of rounds above my head

And felt their deadly impact

On sand bags lying dead.

I never saw the shooters

Or a muzzle flash that night.

I never heard the enemy

Though I tried with all my might.

But he’d been there I guarantee

As I learned when daylight came.

My bunkers bags were shredded

And my nerves were just the same.

We checked the spot I fired at

Some twenty meters wide.

There were some tracks from Charlie

By the brush were he did hide.

Tonight we’d do it all again

And wait for the morning sun.

Hoping that we wouldn’t be

On the wrong end of a gun.

And of course we’d release tension

And yell a great “Hot Damn!”

When a radio was cranked up

And we’d hear “Good Morning, VietNam!”

This poem was written around the 4th of July in 1966, in a bunker on the perimeter at Marble Mountain.  The airstrip had been mortared that night and the tracers had formed a lacework in front of us for quite awhile.  It wasn't the first time I'd experienced incoming or shooting at the unseen  "enemy" for that matter, but it was the most intense for me and I have no idea why.