Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
1970
When I came home I was asked
by a boyhood friend
“I haven’t seen you lately;
where have you been?”
I’m still wondering about
that
Showing posts with label poems about Viet-Nam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems about Viet-Nam. Show all posts
Friday, July 18, 2025
1970 - poem
Monday, January 13, 2025
Stand-To for Night Patrol - short poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Stand-To for Night Patrol
The Americans were said to believe that the Communists are on the defensive…
-New York Times, 11 January 1970
I keep seeing a boat’s black silhouette
Upon the red water, against the red sky
And the black-death tree-line along the shore
A dark, decaying scene, and I don’t know why
Sunday, July 7, 2024
It Wasn't the Fourth of July - poem
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
Saturday, April 30, 2022
Mercenaries Off Down That Road - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Mercenaries Off
Down That Road
Their medic got killed and I was sent
To stabilize their wounded and ignore their dead
And mind my own business in all other things
Because they weren’t who we were
Someone said that they were C.I.A.
And they were okay to me; didn’t talk much
Our C.O. told me to stay away from them
After the unmarked dust-off lifted away
I got to thinking that the war I was assigned
Shouldn’t have been any of my business either
Wednesday, October 13, 2021
Why I Wear a Boonie Hat - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Why I Wear a
Boonie Hat
Mostly to try to avoid speeding tickets
And maybe someone will say, “Thank you for your service”
And pay for my coffee in gratitude
But they just stop at “Thank you for your service”
Sometimes I meet some other old man
And we ask each other where we were
Memories – some of them surprisingly good
Others dark enough
And we
were so young
My boonie hat keeps the sun off my head
And the fluorescents in the Social Security office
It makes me look like John Wayne in The Geriatric
Berets
Not really. Maybe a different angle…how’s that?
And young women come up to me to say
That their grandfathers were in Viet-Nam
Wednesday, January 15, 2020
"I Went to Vietnam to Understand America's Role..." - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A young writer for (Famous Travel Magazine)
Reports that she journeyed to Viet-Nam
And was blown away by what she learned there
Blown away
Sure
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
“I Went to Vietnam to Understand America’s Role in Its History
and Was Blown Away by What I Learned”
A young writer for (Famous Travel Magazine)
Reports that she journeyed to Viet-Nam
And was blown away by what she learned there
Blown away
Sure
Saturday, July 20, 2019
Da Nang on the 20th of July in '69 - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
On the 20th of July in ‘69
I was on the Tien Sha peninsula
Probably shooting penicillin
Into some kid’s *ss for gonorrhea
(That too was a moon shot)
And listening to Radio AFVN
Not paying any attention at all
To Kennedys landing on the surface of
Their girlfriends and then leaving them to die
Soon I was sent to see the moon in Cambodia
More bodies floating in the water there
mhall46184@aol.com
Da Nang on the 20th of July in ‘69
On the 20th of July in ‘69
I was on the Tien Sha peninsula
Probably shooting penicillin
Into some kid’s *ss for gonorrhea
(That too was a moon shot)
And listening to Radio AFVN
Not paying any attention at all
To Kennedys landing on the surface of
Their girlfriends and then leaving them to die
Soon I was sent to see the moon in Cambodia
More bodies floating in the water there
Sunday, July 22, 2018
The Dangers of Smoking after Heaving the Dead into a Helicopter - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
In the foul heat and damp and rot and stench
After dusting off 1 the bodies of dead pals
The living and the dead, the living dead
Old Boats 2 lit off a cigarette and growled
“They say this stuff’ll kill ya.”
1 Dustoff – noun. Dust off – verb with an adverb. A dustoff is a medical evacuation via helicopter, as in “Doc, your dustoff will be here in three.” To dust off a patient, then, is to transport a patient, not to tidy him. I have recently read detailed arguments about the terms dustoff, dust off, and medevac, but no one quibbled about such minutiae along the Cambodian border.
2 Boats – a boatswain’s mate, the brains and muscle of the Navy. Boatswain’s mates do it all and are seldom acknowledged in history or art, not even in the recent film about Dunkirk. A boatswain’s mate is usually addressed as Boats, and always with deference, even by the C.O.
mhall46184@aol.com
The Dangers of Smoking
from an idea by Sheila Sharpe
In the foul heat and damp and rot and stench
After dusting off 1 the bodies of dead pals
The living and the dead, the living dead
Old Boats 2 lit off a cigarette and growled
“They say this stuff’ll kill ya.”
1 Dustoff – noun. Dust off – verb with an adverb. A dustoff is a medical evacuation via helicopter, as in “Doc, your dustoff will be here in three.” To dust off a patient, then, is to transport a patient, not to tidy him. I have recently read detailed arguments about the terms dustoff, dust off, and medevac, but no one quibbled about such minutiae along the Cambodian border.
2 Boats – a boatswain’s mate, the brains and muscle of the Navy. Boatswain’s mates do it all and are seldom acknowledged in history or art, not even in the recent film about Dunkirk. A boatswain’s mate is usually addressed as Boats, and always with deference, even by the C.O.
Monday, May 28, 2018
When We Were Sailors - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
When we were sailors we seldom thought about
Being sailors. We thought about, well, girls
And happenin’ tunes from AFVN
‘Way down the river in happenin’ Saigon
We thought about cars and beaches and girls
And would a swing ship bring any mail today
In big red nylon sacks of envelopes
Love postmarked in a fantasy, The World
We thought about autumn and home and girls
While sandbag stacking and C-Rat snacking
We thought about being clean and dry again
While pooping and snooping in Cambodia
When we were sailors we thought about our pals
And what they were, and who
before the dust-offs flew
mhall46184@aol.com
When We Were Sailors
To the tune of Detroit Diesels
When we were sailors we seldom thought about
Being sailors. We thought about, well, girls
And happenin’ tunes from AFVN
‘Way down the river in happenin’ Saigon
We thought about cars and beaches and girls
And would a swing ship bring any mail today
In big red nylon sacks of envelopes
Love postmarked in a fantasy, The World
We thought about autumn and home and girls
While sandbag stacking and C-Rat snacking
We thought about being clean and dry again
While pooping and snooping in Cambodia
When we were sailors we thought about our pals
And what they were, and who
before the dust-offs flew
Sunday, May 6, 2018
Dreamcatchers Along a Navajo Road - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
A pickup truck beside a Navajo road
Tables of souvenirs, a Thermos of coffee
Clotheslines of dreamcatchers catching the sun
For now; the dreams must wait for sleepless hours
“You were in Viet-Nam,” the old man said
To another old man. No mystery;
He simply took a chance to make a sale
And did, for both had known the Vam Co Tay
Old men along the road, catchers of dreams
Who burned their chances in the long ago
mhall46184@aol.com
Dreamcatchers Along a Navajo Road
“…the war…often seems to have happened to someone else.”
-C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy
A pickup truck beside a Navajo road
Tables of souvenirs, a Thermos of coffee
Clotheslines of dreamcatchers catching the sun
For now; the dreams must wait for sleepless hours
“You were in Viet-Nam,” the old man said
To another old man. No mystery;
He simply took a chance to make a sale
And did, for both had known the Vam Co Tay
Old men along the road, catchers of dreams
Who burned their chances in the long ago
Friday, October 13, 2017
Viet-Nam Service Medal - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
A dragon lurks among the bamboo trees
And if sometimes half-hidden, still, always there
Sometimes half-forgotten, but always there
Is he a glorious dragon? Sometimes, yes
But then some nights he stirs the leaves awake
His eyes – they seem to flicker through the dark
His claws – they tear into the freighted soul
His blood – like Duncan’s, will not wash away
But dragons are good – what is it that one sees
If not a dragon lurking among the trees?
mhall46184@aol.com
Viet-Nam Service Medal
A dragon lurks among the bamboo trees
And if sometimes half-hidden, still, always there
Sometimes half-forgotten, but always there
Is he a glorious dragon? Sometimes, yes
But then some nights he stirs the leaves awake
His eyes – they seem to flicker through the dark
His claws – they tear into the freighted soul
His blood – like Duncan’s, will not wash away
But dragons are good – what is it that one sees
If not a dragon lurking among the trees?
Thursday, September 28, 2017
"Have You Seen Ken Burns' Latest Television Show?" - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
No, I was in the play. I didn’t like it.
The plot, setting, and characterization
Were all wrong, and the clumsy denouement
Was poorly written and acted.
“Macbeth.”
War profiteers from John Wayne to Ken Burns
Have claimed my illegal war for their own
"Hell hath no fury like a non-combatant"
Beyond that, the VA is ashamed of me
So, thanks, but no. I'm good. Bitter, but good
For I was in the play. I didn’t like it.
mhall46184@aol.com
"Have You Seen Ken Burns’ Latest Television Show?"
No, I was in the play. I didn’t like it.
The plot, setting, and characterization
Were all wrong, and the clumsy denouement
Was poorly written and acted.
“Macbeth.”
War profiteers from John Wayne to Ken Burns
Have claimed my illegal war for their own
"Hell hath no fury like a non-combatant"
Beyond that, the VA is ashamed of me
So, thanks, but no. I'm good. Bitter, but good
For I was in the play. I didn’t like it.
Thursday, July 6, 2017
The Bishop of DaNang - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
What did he think of his Americans
Some six or so, just kids, in jungle greens
Receiving from his hands the Sacrament
Of Confirmation there, among Marines
A Quonset hut chapel in the morning sun
Blistering the steel in its passage to noon
Anointing all with gun oil and with sweat
“Do you reject Satan and all his works…?”
The Word and his blessings, a group picture -
And what did the NVA think of him?
mhall46184@aol.com
The Bishop of DaNang
In Grateful Memory:
Pierre Marie Pham Ngoc Chi,14 May 1909 – 21 January 1988
What did he think of his Americans
Some six or so, just kids, in jungle greens
Receiving from his hands the Sacrament
Of Confirmation there, among Marines
A Quonset hut chapel in the morning sun
Blistering the steel in its passage to noon
Anointing all with gun oil and with sweat
“Do you reject Satan and all his works…?”
The Word and his blessings, a group picture -
And what did the NVA think of him?
Friday, June 30, 2017
Picket Fences at Camp Tien Sha - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
There were picket fences at Camp Tien Sha
And a sign that read “Welcome to Viet-Nam”
And nobody ever asked why that should be
Both the fences and – just why were we there?
Picket fences – so could it be that bad?
Concrete transient barracks built by the French
Hot, foul, dark, and dank – it could be that bad
Mortars in the night – Welcome to Viet-Nam
Waiting for orders – did they forget us?
There were picket fences at Camp Tien Sha
mhall46184@aol.com
Picket Fences at Camp Tien Sha
There were picket fences at Camp Tien Sha
And a sign that read “Welcome to Viet-Nam”
And nobody ever asked why that should be
Both the fences and – just why were we there?
Picket fences – so could it be that bad?
Concrete transient barracks built by the French
Hot, foul, dark, and dank – it could be that bad
Mortars in the night – Welcome to Viet-Nam
Waiting for orders – did they forget us?
There were picket fences at Camp Tien Sha
Sunday, May 28, 2017
Memorial Day II: Bad Morning, Viet-Nam - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
No music calls a teenager to war;
There is no American Bandstand of death,
No bugles sound a glorious John Wayne charge
For corpses floating down the Vam Co Tay
No rockin’ sounds for all the bodies bagged
No “Gerry Owen” to accompany
Obscene screams in the hot, rain-rotting night.
Bullets do not whiz. Mortars do not crump.
There is no thin rattle of musketry.
The racket and the horror are concussive.
Men – boys, really – do not choose to die,
“Willingly sacrifice their lives,” that lie;
They just writhe in blood, on a gunboat deck
Painted to Navy specifications.
mhall46184@aol.com
Bad Morning, Viet-Nam
No music calls a teenager to war;
There is no American Bandstand of death,
No bugles sound a glorious John Wayne charge
For corpses floating down the Vam Co Tay
No rockin’ sounds for all the bodies bagged
No “Gerry Owen” to accompany
Obscene screams in the hot, rain-rotting night.
Bullets do not whiz. Mortars do not crump.
There is no thin rattle of musketry.
The racket and the horror are concussive.
Men – boys, really – do not choose to die,
“Willingly sacrifice their lives,” that lie;
They just writhe in blood, on a gunboat deck
Painted to Navy specifications.
Saturday, March 4, 2017
Alter Christus, Alter Vir - poem
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
He died three times, for other men
Who lived because he died – once in Indochina
Once in his vocation, and one last time
Forgotten in a poor hospital bed
Soul-wounded in the false, incessant wars
Humanity inflicts upon itself
Fallenness falling again, ever fallen
And the ever-falling fell upon him
Though he lifted his love – always for others
He died again – and who will live for him?
Mhall46184@aol.com
Alter Christus, Alter Vir
For Reverend Angelo J. Liteky
He died three times, for other men
Who lived because he died – once in Indochina
Once in his vocation, and one last time
Forgotten in a poor hospital bed
Soul-wounded in the false, incessant wars
Humanity inflicts upon itself
Fallenness falling again, ever fallen
And the ever-falling fell upon him
Though he lifted his love – always for others
He died again – and who will live for him?
Thank You for Your Service - Now Shut Up - poem
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Heat, mud, mosquitos, humiliation
Despair, stand to, stand down, stand to again
Wait, wait, the trucks are late; you’ll have to march
Do something with these bodies, Godammit
Damp, rot, no sleep for how many days now
Your promotion got misplaced in Saigon
We gave your medal to an officer
Because we had more officers than medals
What do you know; you weren’t in a real war
My cousin was; he told me all about it
Mhall46184@aol.com
Thank You for Your Service – Now Shut Up
Heat, mud, mosquitos, humiliation
Despair, stand to, stand down, stand to again
Wait, wait, the trucks are late; you’ll have to march
Do something with these bodies, Godammit
Damp, rot, no sleep for how many days now
Your promotion got misplaced in Saigon
We gave your medal to an officer
Because we had more officers than medals
What do you know; you weren’t in a real war
My cousin was; he told me all about it
Monday, October 31, 2016
An American Legion Meeting - poem
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
An American Legion Meeting
O let us sit, our coffee cups to hand
And discharge half-remembered boot camp yarns
As ragged volleys of camaraderie
Blasted through well-defended hearing aids
O let us not raise funds for this or that
Through weekend fish-fries in a parking lot
Or catalogue good deeds inflicted on
Those
For whom our kindness is a border breached
O let us sit, our coffee cups to hand
And remember again the Vam Co Tay
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Thick and Thin Malarial Smears - poem
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Thick and Thin Malarial Smears
An eye, a brain, a journey deep down a lens
Examining the secrets of the blood
Parasitic protozoans frozen in place
Artistic smudgings streaked across glass slides
Anopheles has wrought her evil work
Plasmodium slithers across the field
Unknown to the shivering nineteen-year-old
Who writhes in his government-issue cot
In the agonized mysteries of the dark
While rain, hot rain, rattles the freezing tent
Mhall46184@aol.com
Thick and Thin Malarial Smears
An eye, a brain, a journey deep down a lens
Examining the secrets of the blood
Parasitic protozoans frozen in place
Artistic smudgings streaked across glass slides
Anopheles has wrought her evil work
Plasmodium slithers across the field
Unknown to the shivering nineteen-year-old
Who writhes in his government-issue cot
In the agonized mysteries of the dark
While rain, hot rain, rattles the freezing tent
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Alexandria in a Seabag - poem
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Alexandria in a Seabag
The barracks is a university
So too the march, the camp, the line for chow
McKuen shares our ham and lima beans
John Steinbeck helps with cleaning guns and gear
(You’re not supposed to call your rifle a gun)
The Muses Nine are usually given a miss
But not Max Brand or Herman Wouk
Cowboys and hobbits and hippie poets
And a suspicious Russian or two
Tattered paperbacks jammed in our pockets:
All the world is our university
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