Camp E-How-Kee.. Poem by James McLain

Snell, Snell....
Young, Young..
Leading us off
away from the light
into the deep of the
darkest trees.

One
at a time
little soldiers
afraid
not
of the dark
but only
the thought
of them.

Large
overly large
hairy hands
anxious breath
beady eyes
stubble
upon there chins.

Down wind
away from the
smell of the
latrine.

Hysterical smiles
ten
chubs in a row
each
night new
fears
what did they
run into
to slow
away from.

These
trees grew deep
and
needed
very
little sleep.

The night
went
on for miles
it
seemed
no screams.

Kept deep
within
the forest
where
there
were none
our next of kin
who put us there.

Groups of five
made up of ten
barely boys
made less then men
forever more
so many dead
we were but twiggs
some nursed upon.

Being the south
do we
forgive them
sshhh..quite..
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