Lawrence Hall, HSG
It Wasn’t the Fourth of July
That we may wander o’er this bloody field
To book our dead, and then to bury them
-Henry V IV.vii.75-76
It wasn’t the fourth of July, but it was about then
Near the Cambodian border, on the Vam Co Tay
Searching for two American airman whose machine had gone down
Down, down into the steaming green Vam Co Tay
Bloated and floating, quite still when we saw them
The sloshy prop wash bumped them about a bit
Empty eye sockets, mouths open in silent screams
We poncho-linered their bodies aboard the boat
Cigarettes of despair against the stench and rot
This was not what we sang about in school
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